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JOHNA.SEAVERNS
TUFTS UNIVERSITY LIBRARIES
3 9090 014 557 611
Webster Family Library of Veterinary Medicine
Cummings School of Veterinary Median* at
Tufts University
200 West boto Road
Worth Grafton, MA 01S»
Mr. Sponge's
Sporting Tour.
jSpo^ting Tot/i[
AUTHOR OF "HAND LEY CROSS," "ASK MAMMA;
Sr'c, &>c.
&Ijc "Jforrnths" (jBhttion.
LONDON :
BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. Limd ., 8, 9, 10, BOUVE.RIE ST.
LONDON :
BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LIMD., PRINTERS, WIIITEFRIARS.
PREFACE
TO THE ORIGINAL EDITION.
The author gladly avails himself of the convenience
of a Preface for stating, that it will be seen at the close
of the work why he makes such a characterless character
as Mr. Sponge the hero of his tale.
He will be glad if it serves to put the rising gene-
ration on their guard against specious, promiscuous
acquaintance, aud trains them on to the noble sport of
hunting, to the exclusion of its mercenary, illegitimate
off-shoots.
November, IS 52.
CONTENTS.
CHAP. PAUK
I. — OUR HERO 1
II. — MR. BENJAMIN BUCKRAM &
III. — PETER LEATHER 10
IV. — " LAVERICK WELLS " 17
V. — MR. WAFFLES 21
VI. — TO LAVERICK WELLS 27
VII. — OUR HERO ARRIVES AT LAVERICK WELLS .... 31
VIII. — OLD TOM TOWLER 37
IX. — THE MEET J 1
X. — THE FIND, AND THE FINISH . . . . . . . 47
XI. — THE FEELER 55
XII. — THE DEAL, AND THE DISASTER 59
XIII. — AN OLD FRIEND 63
XIV. — A NEW SCHEME 71
XV. — JAWLEYFORD COURT 77
XVI. — THE JAWLEYFORD ESTABLISHMENT 81
XVII. — THE DINNER 86
XVIII. — THE EVENING'S REFLECTIONS 92
XIX. — THE WET DAY 95
XX. — THE F. II. H 104
XXI. — A COUNTRY DINNER-PARTY Ill
XXII. — THE F. H. H. AGAIN 121
XXIII. — THE GREAT RUN 129
XXIV. — LORD SCAMPERDALE AT HOME 140
XXV. — MR. SPRAGGON'S EMBASSY 149
XXVI. — MR. SPRAGGON AT JAWLEYFORD COURT 160
XXVII. — MR. AND MRS. SPRINGWHEAT 169
XXVIII. — THE FINEST RUN THAT EVER WAS SEEN ! . . . . 179
XXIX. — THE FAITHFUL GROOM 185
CONTENTS.
CHAP.
XXX. — THE CROSS-ROADS AT DALLINGTON BURN
XXXI. — BOLTING THE BADGER
XXXII. — MR. PUFFINGTON ; OR, THE YOUNG MAN ABOUT TOWN .
XXXIII. — A SWELL HUNTSMAN
XXXIV. — LOKD SCAMPERDALE AT JAWLEYFORD COURT .
XXXV. — MR. PUFFINGTON'S DOMESTIC ARRANGEMENTS
XXXVI. — A DAY WITH PUFFINGTON'S nOUNDS ....
XXXVII. — WRITING A RUN
XXXVIII. — A LITERARY BLOOMER
XXXIX.— A DINNER AND A DEAL
XL. — THE MORNING'S REFLECTIONS
XLI. — WANTED — A RICH GOD-PAPA !
XLII. — THE DISCOMFITED DIPLOMATIST
XLIII. — PUDDINGPOTE BOWER, THE SEAT OF JOGGI.ERURY CROWDEV
ESQ.
XLIV. — A FAMILY BREAKFAST ON A HUNTING MORNING .
XLV. — HUNTING THE HOUNDS
XLVI. — COUNTRY QUARTERS .
XLVII. — SIR HARRY SCATTEECASll's HOUNDS ....
XLVII I.— FARMER PEASTEAW'S D1NE-MATINEE ....
XLIX. — PUDDINGPOTE BOWER
L. — THE TRIGGER
LI. — NONSUCH HOUSE AGAIN
LII. — THE DEBATE
LIU. — FACEY ROMFORD AT HOME
LIV. — NONSUCH HOUSE AGAIN
LV.— THE RISING GENERATION
LVI. — THE KENNEL AND TOE STUD
LVII. — THE HUNT
LVIII. — MR. SPONGE AT HOME
LIX. — HOW THE GRAND ARISTOCRATIC CAME OFF
LX. — HOW OTHER THINGS CAME OFF
TACK
191
199
205
215
226
237
212
250
261
266
277
288
294
303
311
319
324
328
338
351
360
367
377
388
396
402
409
415
428
435
445
LIST OF VIGNETTES.
TAGB
Mr. Sponge in Oxford Street .... . . 1
Mr. Sponge negotiating with Mr. Buckram . . . . . .10
Mr. Thomas Slocdolager, late Master of the Laverick "Wells Hounds . 1 7
Mr. Waffles 21
Leather on " Ercles " and Parvo ........ 27
Tom in Hunting Habiliments 37
Enjoying the View .......... 41
Captain Greatguu . . . . . . . . . . . 47
Decorated with a sky-blue Visite ........ 59
Portrait of Lord Bullfrog, formerly owner of Hercules . . . . 63
Mr. Sponge in good feather .... . . . .71
Jawleyford of Jawleyford Court 81
Making Light Wine 86
"This, of course you know ? " 95
Mr. Kobert Foozle 104
Mr. Sponge and the Misses Jawleyford . . . . . Ill
Jawleyford going to the Hunt . . . . . . . .121
His Lordship has it all to himself . . . . . . . . 129
Silver-mounted Spectacles . . . . . . . . .140
His Lordship and Jack .......... 144
Good Night 148
Mr. Jawleyford's peculiar ailment . . . . . . . 149
Enter Mr. Jack Spraggon, full dress . . . . . . .160
Springwheat's Five-year-old Horse ........ 169
Over! 179
Going to Cover . . . . . . . . . . . 185
Mr. Leather and Sponge have a Difference of Opinion .... 1S8
The Morning Ride to Dallington 191
Jack Frosty and Charley Slapp . . . . . . . .197
x LIST OF VIGNETTES.
PAGE
Mistress and Maid 199
Mr. Sponge demanding an Explanation ....... 203
Mr. Puffington, from the original picture 205
An "ama-a-zin' poplar" Man 215
Lord Scamperdale as lie appeared in his " Swell" Clothes . . . 226
An early Breakfast . 236
A good Run 242
A Running Writer 250
Miss Grimes giving the " corrected " Copy to the Printer . . . 263
Mr. Pacey 266
Mr. Puffington 277
The Joggleburys at Home 288
Jogglebury's Return ' 294
Mr. Jogglebury introducing himself to Mr. Sponge 297
Bartholomew and Murry Ann 303
Gustavus James 311
Lady Scattercash 324
The Nonsuch Courier 328
Mr. Bugles prefers Dancing to Hunting ...... 338
Gustavus James in Trouble 351
Mr. Sponge gives Ponto a Lesson 360
Frantic delight of Ponto 363
Domestic Economy of Nonsuch House 367
Sir Harry of Nonsuch House 377
Mr. Facey Romford 388
Billiards Facey 396
"Mr. Sponge, my Lady " 399
Sponge " a Captive " 428
Voluntary Contributions 434
Mr. Viney and Mr. "Watchorn getting up "The Grand Aristocratic" . 435
Mr. and Mrs. Sponge .......... 450
EXTRA ILLUSTRATIONS.
Mr. Sponge completely scatters his Lordship . Frontispiece
(Coloured Illustration.)
Mr. "Waffles, the Master of the " Laverick Wells "
Hounds .......... To face p. 22
Mr. Jawleyford . . . "what a Landlord ought to be"
Mr. Sponge in the best Bedroom at Jawleyford Court
Spraggon's Embassy to Jawleyford Court .
Jack and Mr. Sponge writing an article
Mr. Sponge starting from the Bower ....
Facey Romford treats Sponge to a little Music .
Mr. Bugles goes out Hunting again 0
75
92
150
255
329
391
414
Mr. Spongfs Sporting
Tour.
CHAPTER I.
OUR HERO.
T was a murky Octo-
ber day that the
hero of our tale, Mr.
Sponge, or Soapey
Sponge, as his good-
natured friends call
him, was seen miz-
zling along Oxford
Street, wending his
way to the AVest.
Not that there was
anything unusual in
Sponge being seen
in Oxford Street, for
when in town his
daily perambulations
consist of a circuit,
commencing from
the Bantam Hotel
in Bond Street into
Piccadilly, through
Leicester Square,
and so on to Ald-
ridge's, in St. Mar-
tin's Lane, thence
by Moore's sporting-
print-shop, and on
through some of those ambiguous and tortuous streets that,
appearing to lead all ways at once and none in particular, land
the explorer, sooner or later, on the south side of Oxford Street.
Oxford Street acts to the north part of London what the Strand
MR. SPONGF, IN OXFORD STREET.
2 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
does to the south ; it is sure to bring one up, sooner or later. A
man can hardly get over either of them without knowing it.
Well, Soapey having got into Oxford Street, would make his way
at a squarey, in-kneed, duck-toed, sort of pace, regulated by the
bonnets, the vehicles, and the equestrians he met to criticise ; for
of women, vehicles, and horses, he had voted himself a consummate
judge. Indeed he had fully established in his own mind that
Kiddey Downey and he were the only men in London who realh/
knew anything about horses, and fully impressed with that
conviotion, he would halt, and stand, and stare, in a way that with
any other man would have been considered impertinent. Perhaps
it was impertinent in Soapey — we don't mean to say it wasn't —
but he had done it so long, and was of so sporting a gait and cut,
that he felt himself somewhat privileged. Moreover, the majority
of horsemen are so satisfied with the animals they bestride, that
they cock up their jibs and ride along with a " find any fault with
cither me or my horse, if you can " sort of air.
Thus Mr. Sponge proceeded leisurely along, now nodding to this
man, now jerking his elbow to that, now smiling on a phaeton,
now sneering at a 'bus. If he did not look in at Shackell's, or
Bartley's, or any of the dealers on the line, he was always to be
found about half-past five at Cumberland Gate, from whence he
would strike leisurely down the Park, and after coming to a long
check at Rotten Row rails, from whence he wTouicl pass all the cavalry
in the Park in review, he would wend his way back to the Bantam,
much in the style he had come. This was his summer proceeding.
Mr. Sponge had pursued this enterprising life for some
•" seasons " — ten at least — and supposing him to have begun at
twenty or one-and-twenty, he would be about thirty at the time Ave
have the pleasure of introducing him to our readers — a period of life
at which men begin to suspect they were not quite so Avise at tAvcnty
as they thougdit. Not that Mr. Sponge had any particular indis-
cretions to reflect upon, for he was tolerably sharp, but he felt
that he might have made better use of his time, which may be
shortly described as haATing been spent in hunting all the winter,
and in talking about it all the summer. With this popular sport
he combined the diversion of fortune-hunting, though Ave are
■concerned to say that his success, up to the period of our
introduction, had not been commensurate with his deserts. Let us,
hoAvever, hope that brighter days are about to daAvn upon him.
Having noAV introduced our hero to our male and female friends,
under his interesting pursuits of fox and fortune-hunter, it becomes
us to say a feAV AA'ords as to his qualifications for carrying them on.
Mr. Sponge Avas a good-looking, rather vulgar-looking man. At
a distance — say ten yards — his height, figure, and carriage gave
him somewhat of a commanding appearance, but this AATas rather
Mil. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 3
marred by a jerky, twitchy, uneasy sort of air, that too plainly
showed he was not the natural, or what the lower orders call the
real gentleman. Not that Sponge was shy. Far from it. He
never hesitated about offering to a lady, after a three days'
acquaintance, or in asking a gentleman to take him a h.rse in
over-night, with whom he might chance to come in contact in the
hunting-field. And he did it all in such a cool, off-hand, matter-
of-course sort of way, that people who would have stared with
astonishment if anybody else had hinted at such a proposal, really
seemed to come into the humour and spirit of the thing, and to
look upon it rather as a matter of course than otherwise. Then
his dexterity in getting into people's houses was only equalled by
the difficulty of getting him out again, but this we must waive
for the present in favour of his portraiture.
In height, Mr. Sponge was about the middle size — five feet
eleven or so — with a well borne up, not badly shaped, closely
cropped oval head, a tolerably good, but somewhat receding fore-
head, bright hazel eyes, Koman nose, with carefully tended whiskers,
reaching the corners of a well-formed mouth, and thence descending
in semicircles into a vast expanse of hair beneath the chin.
Having mentioned Mr. Sponge's groomy gait and horsey
propensities, it were almost needless to say, that his dress was in
the sporting style — you saw what he was by his clothes. Every
article seemed to be made to defy the utmost rigour of the
elements. His hat (Lincoln and Bennett) was hard and heavy.
It sounded upon an entrance-hall table like a drum. A little
magical loop in the lining explained the cause of its weight.
Somehow, his hats were never either old or new — not that he
bought them second-hand, but when he bought a new one he
took its "long-coat" off, as he called it, with a singeing lamp, and
made it look as if it had undergone a few probationary showers.
When a good London hat recedes to a certain point, it gets
no worse ; it is not like a country-made thing that keeps
going and going until it declines into a thing with no sort of
resemblance to its original self. Barring its weight and hardness,
the Sponge hat had no particular character apart from the Sponge
head. It was not one of those punty ovals or Cheshire-cheese flats,
■or curly-sided things that enables one to say who is in a house and
who is not, by a glance at the hats in the entrance, but it was
just a quiet, round hat, without anything remarkable, either in the
binding, the lining, or the band, still it was a very becoming hat
when Sponge had it on. There is a great deal of character _ in
hats. We have seen hats that bring the owners to the recollection
far more forcibly than the generality of portraits. But to our
hero.
That there may be a dandified simplicity in dress, is exempli-
4 MR. SPONGE'S SPOETING TOTJE.
fied every day by our friends the Quakers, who adorn their beautiful
brown Saxony coats with little inside velvet collars and fancy silk
buttons, and even the severe order of sporting costume adopted by
oar friend Mr. Sponge, is not devoid of capability in the way of
tasteful adaptation. This Mr. Sponge chiefly showed in promoting
a resemblance between his neckcloths and waistcoats. Thus, if he
wore a cream-coloured cravat, he would have a buff- coloured
waistcoat, if a striped waistcoat, then the starcher would be
imbued with somewhat of the same colour and pattern. The ties
of these varied with their texture. The silk ones terminated in a
sort of coaching fold, and were secured by a golden fox -head pin,
while the striped starchers, with the aid of a pin on each side, just
made a neat, unpretending tie in the middle, a sort of miniature of
the flagrant, flyaway, Mile-End ones of aspiring youth of the
present day. His coats were of the single-breasted cut-away order,
with pockets outside, and generally either Oxford mixture or some
dark colour, that required you to place him in a favourable light
to say Avhat it was.
His waistcoats, of course, were of the most correct form and
material, generally cither pale buff, or buff with a narrow stripe,
similar to the undress vests of the servants of the Royal Family,
only with the pattern run across instead of lengthways, as those
worthies mostly have theirs, and made with good honest step
collars, instead of the make-believe roll collars they sometimes con-
vert their upright ones into. "When in deep thought, calculating,
perhaps, the value of a passing horse, or considering whether he
should have beefsteaks or lamb chops for dinner, Sponge's thumbs-
would rest in the arm-holes of his waistcoat ; in which easy, but
not very elegant, attitude, he would sometimes stand until all
trace of the idea that elevated them had passed away from his mind.
In the trouser line he adhered to the close-fitting costume of
former days ; and many were the trials, the easings, and the
alterings, ere he got a pair exactly to his mind. Many were the
customers who turned away on seeing his manly figure filling the
swing mirror in " Snip and Sneiders','' a monopoly that some
tradesmen might object to, only Mr. Sponge's trousers being
admitted to be perfect " triumphs of the art," the more such a walk-
ing advertisement was seen in the shop the better. Indeed, we be-
lieve it would have been worth Snip and Co.'s while to have let him
have them for nothing. They were easy without being tight, or
rather they looked tight without being so ; there wasn't a bag, a
wrinkle, or a crease that there shouldn't be, and strong and storm -
defying as they seemed, they were yet as soft and as supple as a lady's
glove. They looked more as if his legs had been blown in them
"than as if such irreproachable garments were the work of man's
hands. Many were the nudges, and many the " look at this
MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TO UP. 5
chap's trousers," that were given by ambitious men emulous of his
appearance as he passed along, and many were the turnings round
to examine their faultless fall upon his radiant boot. The boots,
perhaps, might come in for a little of the glory, for they were
beautifully soft and cool-looking to the foot, easy without being
loose, and he preserved the lustre of their polish, even up to
the last moment of his walk. There never was a better man for
getting through dirt, either on foot or horseback, than our friend.
To the frequenters of the " corner," it were almost superfluous
to mention that he is a constant attendant. He has several
volumes of " catalogues," with the prices the horses have brought
set down in the margins, and has a rare knack at recognising old
friends, altered, disguised, or disfigured as they may be — " I've
seen that rip before," he will say, with a knowing shake of the
head, as some Avoe-begone devil goes, best leg foremost, up to the
hammer, or, "What ! is that old beast back? why he's here every
day." No man can impose upon Soapey with a horse. He can
detect the rough-coated plausibilities of the straw-yard, equally
with the metamorphosis of the clipper or singer. His practised
eye is not to be imposed upon either by the blandishments of the
bang-tail, or the bereavements of the dock. Tattersall will hail
him from his rostrum with — " Here's a horse will suit you, Mr.
Sponge ! cheap, good, and handsome ! come and buy him." But
it is needless describing him here, for every oufc-of-place groom
and dog-stealer's man knows him by sight.
CHAPTER II.
ME. BENJAMIN BUCKRAM.
Haying- dressed and sufficiently described our hero to enable
our readers to form a general idea of the man, we have now to re-
quest them to return to the day of our introduction. Mr. Sponge
had gone along Oxford Street at a somewhat improved pace to his
usual wont — had paused for a shorter period in the " 'bus " per-
plexed " Circus," and pulled up scldomcr than usual between the
Circus and the limits of his stroll. Behold him now at the Edge-
ware Road end, eyeing the 'busses with a wanting-a-ridc like air,
instead of the contemptuous sneer he generally adopts towards
those uncouth productions. Bed, green, blue, drab, cinnamon -
colour, passed and crossed, and jostled, and stopped, and blocked,
and the cads telegraphed, and winked, and nodded, and smiled,
C ME. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
and slanged, but Mr. Sponge regarded them not. He had a sort
of " 'bus " panorama in his head, knew the run of them all, whence
they started, where they stopped, where they watered, where they
changed, and, wonderful to relate, had never been entrapped into a
sixpenny fare when he meant to take a threepenny one. In cab
and " 'bus" geography there is not a mere learned man in London.
Mark him as he stands at the corner. He sees what he wants,
it's the chequered one with the red and blue wheels that the Bays-
water ones have got between them, and that the St. John's Wood
and two Western Railway ones are trying to get into trouble by
crossing. What a row ! how the ruffians whip, and stamp, and
storm, and all but pick each other's horses' teeth with their poles,
how the cads gesticulate, and the passengers imprecate ! now the
bonnets are out of the windows, and the row increases. Six
coachmen cutting and storming, six cads sawing the air, sixteen
ladies in flowers screaming, six-and-twenty sturdy passengers
swearing they will " fine them all," and Mr. Sponge is the only
cool person in the scene. He doesn't rush into the throng and
" jump in," for fear the 'bus should extricate itself and drive on
without him ; he doesn't make confusion worse confounded by in-
timating his behest ; he doesn't soil his bright boots by stepping
oil' the kerb-stone ; but, quietly waiting the evaporation of the
steam, and the disentanglement of the vehicles, by the smallest
possible sign in the world, given at the opportune moment, and a
steady adhesion to the flags, the 'bus is obliged either to " come to,"
or lose the fare, and he steps quietly in, and squeezes along to the
far end, as though intent on going the whole hog of the journey.
Away they rumble up the Edgeware Road ; the gradual emer-
gence from the brick and mortar of London being marked as well
by the telling out of passengers as by the increasing distances be-
tween the houses. First, it is all close huddle with both. Austere
iron railings guard the subterranean kitchen areas, and austere
looks indicate a desire on the part of the passengers to guard their
own pockets ; gradually little gardens usurp the places of the
cramped areas, and, Avith their humanising appearance, softer looks
assume the place of frowning anti-swell-moh ones.
Presently a glimpse of green country or of distant hills may be
caught between the wider spaces of the houses, and frequent set-
tings down increase the space between the passengers ; gradually
conservatories appear, and conversation strikes up ; then conic the
exciusiveness of villas, some detached and others running out at
last into real pure green fields studded with trees and picturesque
pot-honses, before one of which latter a sudden wheel round and a
jerk announces the journey done. The last passenger (if there is
one) is then unceremoniously turned loose upon the country.
Our readers will have the kindness to suppose our hero, Mr.
MR. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR. 7
Sponge, shot ont of an omnibus at the sign of the Cat and Com-
passes, in the lull rurality of grass country, sprinkled with fallows
and turnip-fields. We should state that this unwonted journey
was a desire to pay a visit to Mr. Benjamin Buckram, the horse-
dealer's farm at Scampley, distant some mile and a half from where
he was set down, a space that he now purposed travelling on foot.
Mr. Benjamin Buckram was a small horse-dealer, — small, at
least, when he was buying, though great when he was selling. It
would do a youngster good to see Ben filling the two capacities.
He dealt in second hand, that is to say, past mark of mouth
horses ; but on the present occasion Mr. Sponge sought his ser-
vices in the capacity of a letter rather than a seller of horses. Mr.
Sponge wanted to job a couple of plausible-looking horses, with
the option of buying them, provided he (Mr. Sponge) could sell
them for more than he would have to give Mr. Buckram, exclu-
sive of the hire. Mr. Buckram's job price, we should say, was as
near twelve pounds a mouth, containing twenty-eight days, as he
could screw, the hirer, of course, keeping the animals.
Scampley is one of those pretty little suburban farms, peculiar
to the north and northwest side of London — farms varying from
fifty to a hundred acres of well-manured, gravelly soil ; each farm
with its picturesque little buildings, consisting of small, honey-
suckled, rose-entwined brick houses, with small, flat, pan-tiled
roofs, and lattice-windows ; and, hard by, a large haystack, three
times the size of the house, or a desolate barn, half as big as all
the rest of the buildings. From the smallness of the holdings, the
farm-houses are dotted about as thickly, and at such varying dis-
tances from the roads, as to look like inferior " villas " falling out
of rank ; most of them have a half-smart, half-seedy sort of look.
The rustics who cultivate them, or rather look after them, are
neither exactly town nor country. They have the- clownish dress
and boorish gait of the regular " chaws," with a good deal of the
quick, suspicious, sour saucincss of the low London resident. If
you can get an answer from them at all, it is generally delivered
in such a way as to show that the answerer thinks you are what
they call " chaffing them," asking them what you know.
These farms serve the double purpose of purveyors to the Lon-
don stables, and hospitals for sick, overworked, or unsaleable
horses. All the great job-masters and horse-dealers have these re-
treats in the country, and the smaller ones pretend to have, from
whence, in due course, they can draw any sort of an animal a cus-
tomer may want, just as little cellarless wine-merchants can get
you any sort of- wine from real establishments — if you only give
them time.
There was a good deal of mystery about Scampley. It was
sometimes in the hands of Mr. Benjamin Buckram, sometimes in
8 MR. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUIi.
the hands of his assignees, sometimes in those of his cousin
Abraham Brown, and sometimes John Doe and Eichard Eoe were
the occupants of it.
Mr. Benjamin Buckram, though very far from being one, had
the advantage of looking like a respectable man. There was a
certain plump, well-fed rosiness about him, which, aided by a
bright-coloured dress, joined to a continual fumble in the pockets
of his drab trousers, gave him the air of a " well-to-do-in-the-
world " sort of man. Moreover, he sported a velvet collar to his
blue coat, a more imposing ornament than it appears at first sight.
To be sure, there are two sorts of velvet collars, — the legitimate
velvet collar, commencing with the coat, and the adopted velvet
collar, put on when the cloth one gets shabby.
Buckram's was always the legitimate velvet collar, new from
the first, and, we really believe, a permanent velvet collar, adhered
to in storm and in sunshine, has a very money-making impression
on the world. It shows a spirit superior to feelings of paltry
economy, and we think a person would be much more excusable
for being victimised by a man with a good velvet collar to his
■coat, than by one exhibiting that spurious sign of gentility — a
horse and gig.
The reader will now have the kindness to consider Mr. Sponge
arriving at Scampley.
"Ah, Mr. Sponge!" exclaimed Mr. Buckram, who, having
seen our friend advancing up the little twisting approach from
the road to his house through a little square window almost blinded
with Irish ivy, out of which he was in the habit of contemplating
the arrival of his occasional lodgers, Doe and Eoe, "Ah, Mr.
Sponge ! " exclaimed he, with well-assumed gaiety ; " you should
have been here yesterday ; sent away two sich osses — perfect
\mters — the werry best I do think I ever saw in my life ; either
would have bin the werry oss for your money. But come in, Mr.
Sponge, sir, come in," continued he, backing himself through a
little sentry-box of a green portico, to a narrow passage which
branched off into little rooms on either side.
As Buckram made this retrograde movement, he gave a gentle
pull to the wooden handle of an old-fashioned wire bell-pull, in
the midst of buggy, four-in-hand, and other whips, hanging in
the entrance, a touch that was acknowledged by a single tinkle
of the bell in the stable-yard.
They then entered the little room on the right, whose walls
were decorated with various sporting prints, chiefly illustrative of
steeple-chaces, with here and there a stunted fox-brush, tossing
about as a duster. The ill-ventilated room reeked with the
effluvia of stale smoke, and the foded green baize of a little round
table in the centre was covered with filbert-shells and empty ale-
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTIXG TOUR. 9
glasses. The whole furniture of the room wasn't worth five
pounds.
Mr. Sponge, being now on the dealing tack, commenced in the
poverty-stricken strain adapted to the occasion. Having de-
posited his hat on the floor, taken his left leg up to nurse, and
given his hair a backward rub with his right hand, he thus com-
menced :
" Xow, Buckram," said he, " I'll tell you how it is. I'm deuced
hard-up, — regularly in Short's Gardens. I lost eighteen 'undred
on the Derby, and seven on the Leger, the best part of my year's
income, indeed : and I just want to hire two or three horses for
the season, with the option of buying, if I like ; and if you
supply me well, I may be the means of bringing grist to your
mill ; you twig, eh ? "
" Well, Mr. Sponge," replied Buckram, sliding several consecutive
half-crowns down the incline plane of his pocket. "Well, Mr.
Sponge, I shall be happy to do my best for you. I wish you'd come
yesterday, though, as I said before, I jest had two of the neatest
nags — a bay and a grey — not that colour makes any matter to a
judge like you ; there's no sounder sayin' than that a good oss is
not never of a bad colour ; only to a young gemman, you know,
it's well to have 'em smart, and the ticket, in short ; howsomever,
I must do the best I can for you, and if there's nothin' in that
tickles your fancy, why, you must give me a few days to see if
I can arrange an exchange with some other gent ; but the present
is like to be a werry haggiwatin' season ; had more happlicatious
for osscs nor ever I remembers, and I've been a dealer now, man
and boy, turned of eight-and-thirty years ; but young gents is
whimsical, and it was a young'un wot got these, and there's no
sayin' but he mayn't like them — indeed, one's rayther difficult
to ride, — that's to say, the grey, the neatest of the two, and he
may come back, and if so, you shall have him ; and a safer,
sweeter oss was never seen, or one more like to do credit to a
gent : but you knows what an oss is, Mr. Sponge, and can do
justice to me, and I should like to put summut good into your
hands — that I should."
With conversation, or rather with balderdash, such as this, Mr.
Buckram beguiled the few minutes necessary for removing the
bandages, hiding the bottles, and stirring up the cripples about
to be examined, and the heavy flap of the coach-house door
announcing that all was ready, he forthwith led the way through
a door in a brick wall into a little three-sides of a square yard,
ibrmed of stables and loose boxes, with a dilapidated dove-cote
above a pump in the centre ; Mr. Buckram, not growing corn,
could afford to keep pigeons.
]0
MR. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR.
CHAPTER III.
TETKU LEATHER.
MR. SPONGE NEGOTIATING WITH BUCKRAM.
Nothing bespeaks the character of a dealer's trade more than
the servants and hangers-on of the establishment. The civiler
in manner, and the better they are " put on," the higher the
standing of the master, and the better the stamp of the horses.
Those about Mr. Buckram's were of a very shady order. Dirty-
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 11
shirted, sloggering, baggy-breeched, slangey-gaitered fellows, with
the word " gin " indelibly imprinted on their faces. Peter
Leather, the head man, was one of the fallen angels of servitude.
He had once driven a duke — the Duke of Dazzleton — having
nothing whatever to do but dress himself and climb into his well-
indented richly-fringed throne, with a helper at each horse's head
to " let go " at a nod from his broad laced three-cornered hat.
Then having got in his cargo (or rubbish, as he used to call them),
he would start off at a pace that was truly terrific, cutting out
this vehicle, shooting past that, all but grazing a third, anathe-
matising the 'busses, and abusing the draymen. We don't know
how he might be with the queen, but he certainly drove as though
he thought nobody had any business in the street while the
Duchess of Dazzleton wanted it. The duchess liked going fast,
and Peter accommodated her. The duke jobbed his horses and
didn't care about pace, and so things might have gone on very
comfortably, if Peter one afternoon hadn't run his pole into the
panel of a very plain but very neat yellow barouche, passing the
end of Xew Bond-street, which having nothing but a simple crest
— a stag's head on the panel — made him think it belonged to
some bulky cit, taking the air with his rib, but who, unfortunately,
turned out to be no less a person than Sir Giles Nabern, Knight,
the great police magistrate, upon one of whose myrmidons in
plain clothes, who came to the rescue, Peter committed a most
violent assault, for which unlucky casualty his worship furnished
him with rotatory occupation for his fat calves in the " H. of C,"
as the clerk shortly designated the House of Correction. Thither
Peter went, and in lieu of his lace-bedaubed coat, gold-gartered
plushes, stockings, and buckled shoes, he was dressed up in a suit
of tight-fitting yellow and black-striped worsteds, that gave him
the appearance of a wasp without wings. Peter Leather then
tumbled regularly down the staircase of servitude, the greatness
of his fall being occasionally broken by landing in some inferior
place. From the Duke of Dazzleton's, or rather from the tread-
mill, he went to the Marquis of Mammon, whom he very soon left
because he wouldn't wear a second-hand wig. From the marquis
he got hired to the great Irish Earl of Coarsegab, who expected him
to wash the carriage, wait at table, and do other incidentals never
contemplated by a London coachman. Peter threw this place up
with indignation on being told to take the letters to the post.
He then lived on his "means " for a while, a thing that is much
finer in theory than in practice, and having about exhausted his
substance and placed the bulk of his apparal in safe keeping, he
condescended to take a place as job coachman in a livery-stable —
a " horses let by the hour, day, or month" one, in which he enacted
as many characters, at least made as many different appearances,
12 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
as the late Mr. Mathews used to do in his celebrated "At Homes."
One day Peter would be seen ducking under the mews' entrance
in one of those greasy, painfully well-brushed hats, the certain
precursors of soiled linen and seedy, most seedy-covered buttoned
coats, that would puzzle a conjuror to say whether they were
black, or grey, or olive, or invisible green turned visible brown.
Then another day he might be seen in old Mrs. Gadabout's sky-
blue livery, with a tarnished, gold-laced hat, nodding over his nose ;
and on a third he would shine forth in Mrs. Major-General
Flareup's cockaded one, with a worsted shoulder-knot, and a much
over-claubed light drab livery coat, with crimson inexpressibles, so
tight as to astonish a beholder how he ever got into them.
Humiliation, however, has its limits as well as other things ; and
Peter having been invited to descend from his box — alas ! a regu-
lar country patent leather one, and invest himself in a Quaker-
collared blue coat, with a red vest, and a pair of blue trousers with
a broad red stripe down the sides, to drive the Honourable old Miss
Wrinkleton, of Harley-street, to Court in a " one oss pianoforte-
case," as he called a Clarence, he could stand it no longer, and,
chucking the nether garments into the fire, he rushed frantically
up the area-steps, mounted his box, and quilted the old crocodile
of a horse all the way home, accompanying each cut with an
imprecation such as " me make a guy of myself ! " (whip) " me
put on sich things ! " (whip, whip) " me drive down Sin Jimses-
street ! " (whip, whip, whip), " Fd see her fust ! " (whip, whip,
whip), cutting at the old horse just as if he was laying it into Miss
Wrinkleton, so that by the time he got home he had established
a considerable lather on the old nag, which his master resenting
a row ensued, the sequel of which may readily be imagined.
After assisting Mrs. Clearstarch, the Kilburn laundress, in getting
in and taking out her washing, for a few weeks, chance at last
landed him at Mr. Benjamin Buckram's, from whence he is now
about to be removed to become our hero Mr. Sponge's Sancho
Panza, in his fox-hunting, fortune-hunting career, and disseminate
in remote parts his doctrines of the real honour and dignity of
servitude. Now to the inspection.
Peter Leather, having a peep-hole as well as his master, on
seeing Mr. Sponge arrive, had given himself an extra rub over,
and covered his dirty shirt Avith a clean, well-tied, white kerchief,
and a whole coloured scarlet waistcoat, late the property of one of
his noble employers, in hopes that Sponge's visit might lead to^
something. Peter was about sick of the suburbs, and thought, of
course, that he couldn't be worse off than where he was.
" Here's Mr. Sponge wants some osses," observed Mr. Buckram,
as Leather met them in the middle of the little yard, and brought
his right arm round with a sort of military swing to his forehead ;
MP. SPONGE'S SPORTING TO UP. 13
"what 'are we in ? " continued Buckram, with the air of a man with
so many horses that he didn't know what were in and what were out.
" Vy we 'avc Rumbleton in," replied Leather, thoughtfully, strok-
ing down his Iiair as he spoke, " and we 'ave Jack o'Lanthorn in, and
we 'ave the Camel in, and there's the little Hirish oss with the sprig-
tail — Jack-a-Dandy, as I calls him, and the Flyer will be in to-
night, he's jest out a hairing, as it were, with old Mr. Callipash."
" Ah, Rumbleton won't do for Mr. Sponge," observed Buck-
ram, thoughtfully, at the same time letting go a tremendous
avalance of silver down his trouser pocket, "Rumbleton won't do,"
repeated he, " nor Jack-a-Dandy nouther."
" Why, I wouldn't commend neither on 'em," replied Peter,
taking his cue from his master, " only ven you axes me vot there's
in, you knows vy I must give you a cor-recfc answer, in course."
"In course," nodded Buckram.
Leather and Buckram had a good understanding in the lying
line, and had fallen into a sort of tacit arrangement, that if the
former wTas staunch about the horses he was at liberty to make
the best terms he could for himself. Whatever Buckram said,
Leather swore to, and they had established certain signals and
expressions that each understood.
" I've an unkimmon nice oss," at length observed Mr. Buck-
ram, with a scrutinising glance at Sponge, "and an oss in hevery
respect worry like your work, but he's an oss I'll candidly state, I
wouldn't put in every one's 'ands, for, in the fust place, he's wery
walueous, and in the second, he requires an ossman to ride ; how-
somever, as I knows that you can ride, and if you doesn't mind
taking my 'ead man," jerking his elbow at Leather, " to look
arter him, I wouldn't mind 'commodatin' on you, prowided we
can 'gree upon terms."
" Well, let's see him," interrupted Sponge, " and we can talk
about terms after."
" Certainly, sir, certainly," replied Buckram, again letting loose
a reaccumulated rush of silver down his pocket. "Here, Tom !
Joe ! Harry ! where's Sam ? " giving the little tinkler of a bell a
pull as he spoke.
" Sam be in the straw 'ouse," replied Leather, passing through a
stable into a wooden projection beyond, where the gentleman in
question was enjoying a nap.
" Sam ! " said he, " Sam ! " repeated he, in a louder tone, as he
saw the object of his search's nose popping through the midst of
the straw.
" What now ! " exclaimed Sam, starting up, and looking wildly
around ; "what now?" repeated he, rubbing his eyes with the
backs of his hands.
" Get out Ercles," said Leather, soito voce.
14 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
The lad was a mere stripling — some fifteen or sixteen years,
perhaps — tall, slight, and neat, with dark hair and eyes, and was
dressed in a brown jacket — a real boy's jacket, without laps, white
cords, and top-boots. It was his business to risk his neck and
limbs at all hours of the day, on all sorts of horses, over any sort of
place that any person chose to require him to put a horse at, and
this he did with the daring pleasure of youth as yet undaunted by
any serious fall. Sam now bestirred himself to get out the horse.
The clambering of hoofs presently announced his approach.
Whether Hercules was called Hercules on account of his amaz-
ing strength, or from a fanciful relationship to the famous horse
of that name, we know not ; but his strength and his colour
would favour either supposition. He was an immense, tall, power-
ful, dark brown, sixteen hands horse, with an arched neck and
crest, well set on, clean, lean head, and loins that looked as if they
could shoot a man into the next county. His condition was
perfect. His coat lay as close and even as satin, with cleanly
developed muscle, and altogether he looked as hard as a cricket-
ball. He had a famous switch tail, reaching nearly to his hocks,
and making him look less than he would otherwise have done.
Mr. Sponge was too well versed in horse-flesh to imagine that
such an animal would be in the possession of such a third-rate
dealer as Buckram, unless there was something radically wrong
about him, and as Sam and Leather were paying the horse those
stable attentions that always precede a show out, Mr. Sponge
settled in his own mind that the observation about his requiring a
horseman to ride him, meant that he Avas vicious. Nor was he
wrong in his anticipations, for not all Leather's whistlings, or
Sam's endearings and watchings, could conceal the sunken, scowl-
ing eye, that as good as said, " you'd better keep clear of me."
Mr. Sponge, however, was a dauntless horseman. What man
dared he dared, and as the horse stepped proudly and freely out of
the stable, Mr. Sponge thought he looked very like a hunter. Nor
were Mr. Buckram's laudations wanting in the animal's behalf.
" There's an 'orse ! " exclaimed he, drawing his right hand out
of his trouser pocket, and flourishing it towards him. " If that
'orse were down in Leicestersheer," added he, " he'd fetch three
'under'd guineas. Sir Richard would 'ave him in a minnit — that
he would!" added he, with a stamp of his foot as he saw the
animal beginning to set up his back and wince at the approach of
the lad. (We may here mention by way of parenthesis, that Mr.
Buckram had brought him out of Warwicksheer for thirty pounds,
where the horse had greatly distinguished himself, as well by kick-
ing off sundry scarlet swells in the gaily-thronged streets of Lea-
mington, as by running away with divers others over the wide-
stretching grazing grounds of Southam and Dunchurch.)
MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 15
But to our story. The horse now stood staring on view : fire
in his eye, and vigour in his every limb. Leather at his head, the
hid at his side, Sponge and Buckram a little on the left.
" W—h — o — a— a — y, my man, w — h — o— a — a — y," continued
Mr. Buckram, as a liberal show of the white of the eye was fol-
lowed by a little wince and hoist of the hind quarters on the
nearer approach of the lad.
" Look sharp, boy," said he, in a very different tone to the
soothing one in which he had just been addressing the horse.
The lad lifted up his leg for a hoist, Leather gave "him one as
quick as thought, and led on the horse as the lad gathered up his
reins. They then made for a large field at the back of the house,
with leaping-bars, hurdles, " on and offs," "ins and outs," all sorts
of fancy leaps scattered about. Having got him fairly in, and the
lad having got himself fairly settled in the saddle he gave the
horse a touch with the spur as Leather let go his head, and after a
desperate plunge or two started off at a gallop.
"He's fresh," observed Mr. Buckram confidentially to Mr.
Sponge, "he's fresh — wants work, in short — short of work —
wouldn't put every one on him — wouldn't put one o' your timid
cocknified chaps on him, for if ever he were to get the hupper
1and, vy I doesn't know as ow that we might get the hupper 'and
o' him, agen, but the playful rogue knows ven he's got a workman
on his back — see how he gives to the lad though he's only fifteen,
and not strong of his hagc nouther," continued Mr. Buckram,
'• and I guess if he had sich a consternation of talent as you on
his back, he'd wery soon be as quiet as a lamb — not that he's
wicious — far from it, only play — full of play, I may say, though
to be sure, if a man gets spilt it don't argufy much whether it's
done from play or from wice."
During this time the horse was going through his evolutions,
hopping over this thing, popping over that, making as little of
every thing as practice makes them do.
Having gone through the usual routine, the lad now walked
the glowing coated snorting horse back to where the trio stood.
Mr. Sponge again looked him over, and still seeing no exception
to take to him, bid the lad get off, and lengthen the stirrups for
him to take a ride. That was the difficulty. The first two
minutes always did it. Mr. Sponge, however, nothing daunted,
borrowed Sam's spurs, and making Leather hold the horse by the
head till he got well into the saddle, and then lead him on a bit ;
he gave the animal such a dig in both sides as fairly threw him off
his guard, and made him start away at a gallop, instead of stand-
ing and delivering, as was his wont.
Away Mr. Sponge shot, pulling him about, trying all his paces,
and putting him at all sorts of leaps.
16 MB. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR.
Emboldened by the nerve and dexterity displayed by Mr.
Sponge, Mr. Buckram stood meditating a further trial of his
equestrian ability, as he watched him bucketing " Ercles " about.
Hercules had " spang-hewed " so many triers, and the hideous
contraction of his resolute back had deterred so many from
mounting, that Buckram had began to fear he would have to
place him in the only remaining school for incurables, the 'Bus.
Hack-horse riders arc seldom great horsemen. The very fact of
their being hack-horse riders shows they are little accustomed to
horses, or they would not give the fee-simple of an animal for a
few weeks' work.
" I've a wonderful clever little oss," observed Mr. Buckram, as
Sponge returned with a slack rein and a satisfied air on the late
resolute animal's back. "Little I can 'ardly call 'im," continued
Mr. Buckram, "only he's low ; but you knows that the 'eight of
an oss has nothin' to do with his size. Now this is a perfect dray-
oss in minaturc. An 'Arrow gent, lookin' at him t'other day
christen'd him ' Multum in Parvo.' But though he's so ter-men-
dous strong, he has the knack o' goin', specially in deep ; and if
you're not a-goin' to Sir Richard, but into some o' them plough
sheers (shires), I'd 'commend him to you."
" Let's have a look at him," replied Mr. Sponge, throwing his
right-leg over Hercules' head, and sliding from the saddle on to
the ground, as if he were alighting from the quietest shooting pony
in the world.
All then was hurry, scurry, and scamper to get this second
prodigy out. Presently he appeared. Multum in Parvo certainly
was all that Buckram described him. A long, low, clean-headed,
clean-necked, big-hocked, chesnut, with a long tail, and great,
large, flat, white legs, without mark or blemish upon them.
Unlike Hercules, there was nothing indicative of vice or mischief
about him. Indeed, he was rather a sedate, meditative-looking
animal ; and, instead of the watchful, arms'-length sort of way
Leather and Co. treated Hercules, they jerked and punched Parvo
about as if he were a cow.
Still Parvo had his foibles. He was a resolute, head-strong
animal, that would go his own way in spite of all the pulling and
hauling in the world. If he took it into his obstinate head to turn
into a particular field, into it he Avould be ; or against the gate-
post he would bump the rider's leg in a way that would make him
remember the difference of opinion between them. His was not a
fiery, hot-headed spirit, with object or reason for its guide, but
just a regular downright pig-headed sort of stupidity, that nobody
could account for. He had a mouth like a bull, and would walk-
clean through a gate sometimes rather than be at the trouble of
rising to leap it ; at other times he would hop over it like a bird.
MP. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR.
17
He could not beat Mr. Buckram's men, because they were always
on the look-out for objects of contention with sharp spur rowels,
ready to let into his sides the moment he began to stop ; but a
weak or a timid man on his back had no more chance than he
would on an elephant. If the horse chose to carry him into the
midst of the hounds at the meet, he would have him in — nay. he
would think nothing of upsetting the master himself in the
middle of the pack. Then the provoking part was, that the
obstinate animal, after having done all the mischief, would just set
to to eat as if nothing had happened. After rolling a sportsman
in the mud, he would repair to the nearest hay-stack or grassy
bank, and be caught. He was now ten years old, or a lectle more
perhaps, and very wicked years some of them had been. His
adventures, his sellings and his returning, his lettings and his
unletting?, his Dumpings and spillings, his smashings and crashings,
on the road, in the field, in single and in double harness, would
furnish a volume of themselves ; and in default of a more able
historian, we purpose blending his future fortune with that of
" Ercles," in the service of our hero Mr. Sponge, and his
accomplished groom, and undertaking the important narration of
them ourselves.
CHAPTER IV.
" LAVERICK WELLS."
WE trust our opening chapters,
aided by our friend Leech's
pencil, will have enabled our
readers to embody such a Sponge
in their mind's eye as will assist
them in following us through
the couiS3 of his peregrinations.
We do not profess to have drawn
such a portrait as will raise the
same sort of Sponge in the minds
of all, but we trust we have given
such a general outline of style,
and indication of character, as an
ordinary knowledge of the world
will enable them to imagine a
good, pushing, free-and-easy sori
of man, wishing tobe a gentleman
without knowing how.
Far more difficult is the task of conveving to our readers such
FKOMAS SLOCDOLAGER, LATE MASTER OF
THE LAYEKKK WELLS HOUNDS.
/
A
18 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUE.
information as will enable them to form an idea of our hero's
ways and means. An accommodating world — especially the
female portion of it — generally attribute ruin to the racer, and
fortune to the fox-hunter ; but though Mr. Sponge's large losses
on the turf, as detailed by him to Mr. Buckram on the occasion
of their deal or "job," would bring him in the category of the
unfortunates ; still that representation was nearly, if not altogether,
fabulous. That Mr. Sponge might have lost a trifle on the great
races of the year, we don't mean to deny, but that he lost such a
sum as eighteen hundred on the Derby, and seven on the Leger,
we are in a condition to contradict, for the best of all possible
reasons, that he hadn't it to lose. At the same time we do not
mean to attribute falsehood to Mr. Sponge — quite the contrary —
it is no uncommon thing for merchants and traders, men who
*' talk in thousands," to declare that they lost twenty thousand
by this, or forty thousand by that, simply meaning that they
didn't make it, and if Mr. Sponge, by taking the longest of the
long odds against the most wretched of the outsiders, might have
Avon the sums he named, he surely had a right to say he lost them
when he didn't get them.
It never does to be indigenously poor, if we may use such a
term, and when a man gets to the end of his tether, he must have
something or somebody to blame rather than his own extravagance
or imprudence, and if there is no "rascally lawyer" who has
bolted with his title-deeds, or fraudulent agent who has misappro-
priated his funds, why then, railroads, or losses on the turf, or
joint-stock banks that have shut up at short notice, come in as
the scapegoats. Ycry willing hacks they are, too, railways espe-
cially, and so frequently ridden, that it is no easy matter to
discriminate between the real and the fictitious loser.
But though we are able to contradict Mr. Sponge's losses on the
turf, we are sorry we are not able to elevate him to the riches the
character of a fox-hunter generally inspires. Still, like many men
of whom the common observation is, "nobody knows how he
lives," Mr. Sponge always seemed well to do in the world. There
was no appearance of want about him. He always hunted ; some-
times with five horses, sometimes with four, seldom with less than
three, though at the period of our introduction he had come down
to two. Nevertheless, those two, provided he could but make
them ".go," were well calculated to do the work of four. And
hack horses, of all sorts, it may be observed, generally do double
the wrork of private ones ; and if there is one man in the world
better calculated to get the work out of them than another, that
man most assuredly is Mr. Sponge. And this reminds us, that
we may as well state that his bargain with Buckram was a sort of
jobbing deal. He had to pay ten guineas a month for each horse,
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 19
with a sort of sliding scale of prices if he chose to buy — the price
of "Erclcs" (the big brown) being fixed at fifty, inclusive of hire
at the end of the first month, and gradually rising according to
the length of time he kept him beyond that ; while " Multum in
Parvo," the resolute chesnut, was booked at thirty, with the right
of buying at five more, a contingency that Buckram little
expected. lie, we may add, had got him for ten, and dear he
thought him when he got him home.
The world was now all before Mr. Sponge where to choose ; and
not being the man to keep hack-horses to look at, we must be
setting him a-going.
" Leicestershecr swells," as Mr. Buckram would call them, with
their fourteen hunters and four hacks, will smile at the idea of a
man going from home to hunt with only a couple of "screws,"
but Mr. Sponge knew what he was about, and didn't want any
one to counsel him. He knew there were places where a man can
follow up the ciFect produced by a red coat in the morning to
great advantage in the evening ; and if he couldn't hunt every
day in the week, as he could have wished, he felt he might fill up
Ids time perhaps quite as profitably in other ways. The ladies, to
do them justice, are never at all suspicious about men — on the
" nibble " — always taking it for granted, they are " all they could
wish," and they know each other so well, that any cautionary
hints act rather in a man's favour than otherwise. Moreover,
hunting men, as we said before, are all supposed to be rich, and as
very few ladies are aware that a horse can't hunt every day in the
week, they just class the whole "genus" fourtcen-horse power
men, ten-horse power men, five-horse power men, two-horse power
men, together, and tying them in a bunch, label it " very rich"
and proceed to take measures accordingly.
Let us now visit one of the "strongholds" of fox and fortune-
hunting.
A sudden turn of a long, gently-rising, but hitherto uninterest-
ing road, brings the posting traveller suddenly upon the rich,
well-wooded, beautifully undulating vale of Fordingford, whose
line green pastures are brightened with occasional gleams of a
meandering river, flowing through the centre of the vale. In the
far distance, looking as though close upon the blue hills, though
in reality several miles apart, sundry spires and taller buildings
are seen rising above the grey mists towards which a straight,
undeviating, matter-of-fact line of railway passing up the right of
the vale, directs the eye. This is the famed Laverick Wells, the
resort, as indeed all watering-places are, according to Newspaper
accounts, of
" Knights and dames,
And ail that wealth and lofty lineage claim."
20 ME. SPONGE'S SPOETING TOVE.
At the period of which we write, however, " Laverick Wells "
was in great favour — it had never known such times. Every
house, every lodging, every hole and corner was full, and the
great hotels, which more resemble Lancashire cotton-mills than
English hostelries, were sending away applicants in the most off-
hand, indifferent way.
The Laverick Wells hounds had formerly been under the
management of the well-known Mr. Thomas Slocdolagcr, a hard-
riding, hard-bitten, hold-harding sort of sportsman, whose whole
soul was in the thing, and who would have ridden over his best
friend in the ardour of the chase.
In some countries such a creature may be considered an acqui-
sition, and so long as he reigned at the Wells, people made the
best they could of him, though it was painfully apparent to the
livery-stable keepers, and others, who had the best interest of the
place at heart, that such a red-faced, gloveless, drab-breeched,
mahogany-booted buffer, who would throw off at the right time,
and who resolutely set his great stubbly-cheeked face against all
show meets and social intercourse in the field, was not exactly the-
man for a civilised place. Whether time might have enlightened
Mr. Slocdolager as to the fact, that continuous killing of foxes,
after fatiguingly long runs, was not the way to the hearts of the
Laverick Wells sportsmen, is unknown, for on attempting to
realise as fine a subscription as ever appeared upon paper, it
melted so in the process of collection, that what was realised was
hardly worth his acceptance ; so saying, in his usual blunt way,
that if he hunted a country at his own expense he would hunt
one that wasn't encumbered vith fools, he just stamped his little
wardrobe into a pair of old black saddle-bags, and rode out of
town without saying " tar, tar" good-bye, carding, or P. P. C.-ing
anybody.
This was at the end of a season, a circumstance that consider-
ably mitigated the inconvenience so abrupt a departure might
have occasioned, and as one of the great beauties of Laverick
Wells is, that it is just as much in vogue in summer as in
winter, the inhabitants consoled themselves with the old aphorism,,
that there is as " good fish in the sea as ever came out of it," and
cast about in search of some one to supply his place at as small
cost to themselves as possible. In a place so replete with money
and the enterprise of youth, little difficulty was anticipated, espe-
cially when the old bait of " a name " being all that was wanted,
"an ample subscription," to defray all expenses figuring in the?
background, was held out.
ME. SPONGE'S SFOETING TOUR.
21
CHAPTER V.
MR. WAFFLES.
AMONG a host of most meritorious
young men — (any of whom would
get up behind a bill for five hundred
pounds without looking to see that
it wasn't a thousand) — among a
host of most meritorious young
men who made their appearance at
Laverick Wells towards the close
Of Mr. Slocdolager's reign, was Mr.
Waffles ; a most enterprising youth,
just on the verge of arriving of age,
and into the possession of a very
considerable amount of charming
ready money.
Were it not that a "proud aristo-
cracy," as Sir Robert Peel called
them, have shown that they can get
over any little deficiency of birth if
there is sufficiency of cash, we should
have thought it necessary to make
the best of Mr. Waffles' pedigree,
but the tide of opinion evidently
setting the other way, we shall just
give it as we had it, and let the proud aristocracy reject him if they
like. Mr. Waffles' father, then, was either a great grazier or a great
brazier — which, we are unable to say, " for a small drop of ink
having fallen," not " like dew," but like a black beetle, on the
first letter of the word in our correspondent's communication, it
may do for either — but in one of which trades he made a "mint
of money," and latish on iu life married a lady who hitherto had
filled the honourable office of dairy-maid in his house ; she was a
fine handsome woman, and a year or two after the birth of this
their only child, he departed this life, nearer eighty than seventy,
leaving an "inconsolable," &c, who unfortunately contracted
matrimony with a master pork- butcher, before she got the fine
flattering white monument up, causing young Waffles to be
claimed for dry-nursing by that expert matron the High Court of
Chancery ; who, of course, had him properly educated — where, it is
immaterial to relate, as we shall step on till we find him at college.
Our friend, having proved rather too vivacious for the Oxford
MR. WAFFLES.
22 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUIi.
Dons, had been recommended to try the effects of the Laverick
Wells, or any other waters he liked, and had arrived with a couple
of hunters and a hack, much to the satisfaction of the neighbour-
ing master of hounds and his huntsman ; for Waffles had ridden
over and maimed more hounds to his own share, during the two-
seasons he had been at Oxford, than that gentleman had been in
the habit of appropriating to the use of the whole university.
Corresponding with that gentleman's delight at getting rid of him
was Mr. Slocdolager's dismay at his appearance, for fully satisfied
that Oxford was the seat of fox-hunting as well as of all the other
arts and sciences, Mr. Waffles undertook to enlighten him and his
huntsman on the mysteries of their calling, and " Old Sloe," as he
was called, being a very silent man, while Mr. Waffles was a very
noisy one, Sloe was nearly talked deaf by him.
Mr. Waffles was just in the hey-day of hot, rash, youthful indis-
cretion and extravagance. He had not the slightest idea of the
value of money, and looked at the fortune he was so closely ap-
proaching as perfectly inexhaustible. His rooms, the most spacious
and splendid at that most spacious and splendid hotel, the " Impe-
rial," Avere filled with a profusion of the most useless but costly
articles. Jewellery without end, pictures innumerable, pictures that
represented all sorts of imaginary sums of money, just as they repre-
sented all sorts of imaginary scenes, but whose real worth or genuine-
ness would never be tested till the owner wanted to "convert them."
Mr. Waffles was a "pretty man." Tall, slim, and slight, with
long curly light hair, pink and white complexion, visionary
whiskers, and a tendency to moustache that could best be seen
sideways. He had light blue eyes ; while his features generally
were good, but expressive of little beyond great good-humour. In
dress, he was both smart and various ; indeed, we feel a difficulty
in fixing him in any particular costume, so frequent and opposite
were his changes. He had coats of every cut and colour. Some-
times he was the racing man with a bright-button'd Newmarket
brown cut-away, and white-cord trousers, with drab cloth-boots ;
anon, he would be the officer, and shine forth in a fancy forage
cap, cocked jauntily over a profusion of well-waxed curls, a richly-
braided surtout, with military over-alls strapped down over highly-
varnished boots, whose hypocritical heels would sport a pair of
large rowclled, long-necked, ringing, brass spurs. Sometimes he
was a Jack tar, with a little glazed hat, a once-round tyc, a checked
shirt, a blue jacket, roomy trousers, and broad-stringed pumps ;
and, before the admiring ladies had well digested him in that
dress, he would be seen cantering away on a long-tailed white
barb, in a pea-green duck-hunter, with cream-coloured leather and
rose-tinted tops. He was
" All things by turns, and nothing long."
ME. WAFFLES, THE MASTEE OF THE H LAVEEICK WELLS HOUNDS.
[■P. 22.
MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TO UK. 23
Such was the gentleman elected to succeed the silent, matter-of-
fact Mr. Slocdolagcr in the important office of Master of the
Laverick Wells Hunt ; and whatever may be the merits of either —
upon which we pass no opinion — it cannot be denied that they
were essentially different. Mr. Slocdolagcr was a man of few-
words, and not at all a ladies' man. He could not even talk when
he was crammed with wine, and though he could hold a good
quantity, people soon found out they might just as well pour it
into a jug as down his throat, so they gave up askiug him out.
He was a man of few coats, as well as of few words ; one on, and
one off, being the extent of his wardrobe. His scarlet was growing
plum-colour, and the rest of his hunting-costume has been already
glanced at. He lodged above Smallbones, the veterinary-surgeon,
in a little back street, where he lived in the quietest way, dining
when he came in from hunting, — dressing, or rather changing,
only when he was wet, hunting each fox again over his brandy -
and-water, and bundling off to bed long before many of his
"field" had left the dining-room. He was little better than a
better sort of huntsman.
Waffles, as we said before, had made himself conspicuous
towards the close of Mr. Slocdolager's reign, chiefly by his dashing
costume, his reckless riding, and his off-hand way of blowing up
and slanging people.
Indeed, a stranger would have taken him for the master, a
delusion that was heightened by his riding with a formidable-
looking sherry-case, in the shape of a horn, at his saddle. Save
when engaged in sucking this, his tongue was never at fault. It
was jabber, jabber, jabber ; chatter, chatter, chatter ; prattle,
prattle, prattle ; occasionally about something, oftener about
nothing, but in cover or out, stiff country or open, trotting or
galloping, wet day or dry, good scenting day or bad, Waffles,
clapper never wTas at rest. Like all noisy chaps, too, he could
not bear any one to make a noise but himself. In furtherance of
this, he called in the aid of his Oxfordshire rhetoric. He would
hodoo at people, designating them by some peculiarity that he
thought he could wriggle out of, if necessary instead of attacking
them by name. Thus, if a man spoke, or placed himself where
Waffles thought he ought not to be (that is to say, any where
but where Walllcs was himself), he would exclaim, " Pray, sir, hold
your tongue ! — you, sir ! — no, sir, not you — the man that speaks
as if he had a brush in his throat ! " — or, " Do come away, sir ! —
you, sir ! — the man in the mushroom-looking hat ! " — or, " that
gentleman in the parsimonious boots ! " looking at some one with
very narrow tops.
Still he was a rattling, good-natured, harum-scarum fellow ; and
masterships of hounds, memberships of Parliament — all expensive
24 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
unmoncy-making offices, — being tilings that most men are anxious
to foist upon their friends, Mr. Waffles' big talk and interference
in the field procured him the honour of the first refusal. Not that
he was the man to refuse, for he jumped at the offer, and, as he
would be of age before the season came round, and would have
got all his money out of Chancery, he disdained to talk about a
subscription, and boldly took the hounds as his own. He then
became a very important personage at Laverick Wells.
He had always been a most important personage among the
ladies, but as the men couldn't marry him, those who didn't
want to borrow money of him, of course, ran him down. It used
to be, " Look at that dandified ass, Waffles, I declare the sight of
him makes me sick ; " or, " What a barber's apprentice that fellow
is, with his ringlets all smeared with Macassar."
Now it was Waffles this, Waffles that, "Who dines with
Waffles ? " " Waffles is the best fellow under the sun ! By Jingo,
I know no such man. as Waffles ! " " Most deserving young
man ! "
In arriving at this conclusion, their judgment was greatly
assisted by the magnificent way he went to work. Old Tom
Towler, the whip, who had toiled at his calling for twenty long
years on fifty pounds and what he could " pick up," was advanced
to a hundred and fifty, with a couple of men under him. Instead
•of riding worn-out, tumble-down, twenty-pound screws, he was
mounted on hundred-guinea horses, for which the dealers were to
have a couple of hundred, when they were paid. Every thing was
in the same proportion.
. Mr. AVaffles' succession to the hunt made a great commotion
among the fair — many elegant and interesting young ladies, who
had been going on the pious tack against the Reverend Solomon
Winkcycs, the popular bachelor-preacher of St. Margaret's, teach-
ing in his schools, distributing his tracts, and collecting the penny
subscriptions for his clothing club, now took to riding in fan-tailed
habits and feathered hats, and talking about leaping and hunting,
and riding over rails. Mr. Waffles had a pound of hat-strings
sent him in a week, and muffatecs innumerable. Some, w^e are
sorry to say, worked him cigar-cases. He, in return, having
expended a vast of toil and ingenuity in inventing a " button,"
now had several dozen of them worked up into brooches, which he
scattered about with a liberal hand. It was not one of your
matter-of-fact story-telling buttons — a fox with " Tally-ho," or a
fox's head grinning in grim death — making a red coat look like a
miniature butcher's shamble, but it was one of your queer twisting
lettered concerns, that may pass cither for a military button, or a
naval button, or a club button, or even for a livery button. The
'otters, two W's, were so skilfully entwined, that even a composi-
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 23
tor — and compositors arc people who can read almost any thing —
would have been puzzled to decypher it. The letters were gilt,
riveted on steel, and the wearers of the button-brooches were very
soon dubbed by the non-recipients, " Mr. Waffles' sheep."
A fine button naturally requires a fine coat to put it on, and
many were the consultations and propositions as to what it should
be. Mr. Slocdolager had done nothing in the decorative depart-
ment, and many thought the failure of funds was a good deal
attributable to that fact. Mr. Waffles was not the man to lose an
opportunity of adding another costume to his wardrobe, and after
an infinity of trouble, and trials of almost all the colours of the
rainbow, ho at length settled the following uniform, which, at
least, had the charm of novelty to recommend it. The morning,
or hunt-coat, was to be scarlet, with a cream-coloured collar and
cuffs ; and the evening, or dress coat, was to be cream-colour,
with a scarlet collar and cuffs, and scarlet silk facings and linings,
looking as if the wearer had turned the morning one inside out.
Waistcoats, and other articles of dress, were left to the choice of
the wearer, experience having proved that they are articles it is
impossible to legislate upon with any effect.
The old ladies, bless their disinterested hearts, alone looked on
the hound freak with other than feelings of approbation.
They thought it a pity ho should take them. They wished he
mightn't injure himself — hounds very expensive things — led to
habits of irregularity — should he sorry to sec such a nice young
man as Mr. Waffles led astray — not that it would make any differ-
ence to them, but (looking significantly at their daughters).
No fox had been hunted by more hounds than Waffles had been
by the ladies ; but though he had chatted and prattled with fifty
fair maids — any one of whom he might have found difficult to
lvsist, if " pinned " single-handed by, in a country house, yet the
multiplicity of assailants completely neutralised each other, and
\erified the truth of the adage that there is " safety in a crowd."
If pretty, lisping Miss Wordsworth thought she had shot an
arrow home to his heart over night, a fresh smile and dart from
little Mary Oglcby's dark eyes extracted it in the morning, and
made him think of her till the commanding figure and noble air
of the Honourable Miss Letitia Amelia Susannah Jemimah de
Jenkins, in all the elegance of first-rate millinery and dressmaker-
ship, drove her completely from his mind, to be in turn displaced
by some one more bewitching. Mr. Waffles wTas reputed to be
made of money, and he went at it as though he thought it utterly
impossible to get through it. He was greatly aided in his endea-
vours by the fact of its being all in the funds — a great convenience
to the spendthrift. It keeps him constantly in cash, and enables
him to "cut and come again," as quick as ever he likes. Land
26 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
is not half so accommodating ; neither is money on mortgage.
What with time spent in investigating a title, or giving notice to
" pay in," an industrious man wants a second loan by the time, or
perhaps before he gets the first. Acres are not easy of conversion,
and the mere fact of wanting to sell implies a deficiency some-
where. With money in the funds, a man has nothing to do but
lodge a power of attorney with his broker, and write up for four
or five thousand pounds, just ns he would write to his bootmaker
for four or five pairs of boots, the only difference being, that in all
probability the money would be down before the boots. Then,
with money in the funds, a man keeps up his credit to the far end
— the last thousand telling no more talcs than the first, and mak-
ing just as good a show.
AVe are almost afraid to say what Mr. Waffles1 means were,
but we really believe, at the time he came of age, that he had
100,000/. in the funds, which were nearly at "par" — a term
expressive of each hundred being worth a hundred, and not eighty-
nine or ninety pounds as is now the case, which makes a consider-
able difference in the melting. Now a real bond fide 100,000/.
always counts as three in common parlance, which latter sum
would yield a larger income than gilds the horizon of the most
mercenary mother's mind, say ten thousand a-year, which we
believe is generally allowed to be " v — a — a — ry handsome."
No wonder, then, that Mr. Waffles was such a hero. Another
great recommendation about him was, that he had not had time
to be much plucked. Many of the young men of fortune that
appear upon town have lost half their feathers on the race-course
or the gamiug-table before the ladies get a chance at them ; but
here was a nice, fresh-coloured youth, with all his downy verdure
full upon him. It takes a vast of clothes, even at Oxford prices,
to come to a thousand pounds, and if we allow four or five
thousand for his other extravagances, he could not have done
much harm to a hundred thousand.
Our friend, soon finding that he was " cock of the walk," had
no notion of exchanging his greatness for the nothingness of
London, and, save going up occasionally to see about opening the
flood-gates of his fortune, he spent nearly the whole summer at
Laverick Wells. A fine season it was, too — the finest season the
Wells had ever known. When at length the long London season
closed, there was a rush of rank and fashion to the English water-
ing-places, quite unparalleled in the '• recollection of the oldest
inhabitants." There were blooming widows in every stage of
grief and woe, from the becoming cap to the fashionable corset
and ball flounce — widows who would never forget the dear
deceased, or think of any other man — unless he had at least fwe
thousand a year. Lovely girls, who didn't care a farthing if the
MR. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR.
27
man was " only handsome ; " and smiling mammas " egging them
on," who would look very different when they came to the horrid
£. s. d. And this mercantile expression leads us to the observa-
tion that we know nothing so dissimilar as a trading town and a
watering-place. In the one, all is bustle, hurry, and activity ;
in the other, people don't seem to know what to do to get through
the day. The city and west-end present somewhat of the contrast,
but not to the extent of manufacturing or sea-port towns and water-
ing-places. Bathing-places arc a shade better than watering-
places in the way of occupation, for people can sit staring at
the sea, counting the ships, or polishing their nails with a shell,
whereas, at watering-places, they have generally little to do hut
stare at and talk of each other, and mark the progress of the dav,
by alternately drinking at the wells, eating at the hotels, and
wandering between the library and the railway-station. The
ladies get on better, for where there are ladies there are always
line shops, and what between turning over the goods, and sweeping
the streets with their trains, making calls, and arranging partners
for balls, they get through their time very pleasantly ; but what
is " life " to them is often death to the men.
CHAPTER VI.
TO LAVERICK WELLS.
HE flattering accounts
Mr. Sponge read in
the papers of the
distinguished company
assembled at Laverick
Wells, together with
details of the princely
magnificence of the
wealthy commoner, Mi'.
AVaffles, who appeared
to entertain all the
world at dinner after
each day's hunting,
made Mr. Sponge
think it would be a
very likely place to
suit him. Accordingly,
thither he despatched
Mr. Leather with the redoubtable horses by the road, intending
LEATHER ON EF.CLES AND PAHVO.
28 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
to follow in as many hours by the rail as it took them days to
trudge on foot.
Railways have helped hunting as well as other things, and
enables a man to glide down into the grass " sheers," as Mr.
Buckram calls them, with as little trouble, and in as short a time
almost, as it took him to accomplish a meet at Croydon, or at the
Magpies at Staines. But to our groom and horses.
Mr. Sponge was too good a judge to disfigure the horses with
the miserable, pulpy, weather-bleached job-saddles and bridles of
*' livery," but had them properly turned out with well-made,
slightly-worn London ones of his own, and nice, warm brown
woollen rugs, below broadly-bound, bluc-and-white-striped sheet-
ing, with richly-braided lettering, and blue and white cordings.
A good saddle and bridle makes a difference of ten pounds in the
looks of almost any horse. There is no need because a man rides
a hack-horse to proclaim it to all the world ; a fact that few hack-
horse letters seem to be aware of. Perhaps, indeed, they think to
advertise them by means of their inferior appointments.
Leather, too, did his best to keep up appearances, and turned
out in a very stud-groomish-looking, basket-buttoned, brown cut-
away, with a clean striped vest, ample white cravat, drab breeches
and boots, that looked as though they had brushed through a few
bullfinches ; and so they had, but not with Leather's legs in them,
for he had bought them second-hand of a pad groom in distress.
His hands were encased in cat's-skin sable gloves, showing that he
was a gentleman who liked to be comfortable. Thus accoutred,
he rode down Broad Street at Laverick Wells, looking like a fine,
faithful old family servant, with a slight scorbutic affection of the
nose. He had everything correctly arranged in true sporting
marching order. The collar-shanks were neatly coiled under the
headstalls, the clothing tightly rolled and balanced above the little
saddle-bags on the led horse, "Multum in Parvo's" back, with
the story-telling whip sticking through the roller.
Leather arrived at Laverick Wells just as the first shades of a
November night were drawing on, and anxious mammas and
careful chaperons were separating their fair charges from their
respective admirers and the dreaded night air, leaving the streets
to the gas-light men and youths " who love the moon." The
girls having been withdrawn, licentious youths linked arms, and
bore down the broad pavi, quizzing this person, laughing at
that, and staring the pin-stickers and straw-chippers out of
countenance.
" Here's an arrival ! " exclaimed one. " Dash my buttons, who
have we here ? " asked another, as Leather hove in sight. " That's
not a bad looking horse," observed a third. " Bid him five pounds
for it for me," rejoined a fourth.
MB. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR. 2D
" I say, old Bardolph ! who do them 'ere quadrupeds belong
to ? " asked one, taking a scented cigar out of his mouth.
Leather, though as impudent a dog as any of them, and far
more than a match for the best of them at a tournament of slang,
being on his preferment, thought it best to be civil, and replied,
with a touch of his hat, that they were " Mr. Sponge's."
"Ah ! old sponge biscuits ! — I know lam!'''' exclaimed a youth
in a Tweed wrapper. " My father married his aunt. Give my
love to him, and tell him to breakfast with me at six in the
morning — he! lie! he!''''
"I say, old boy, that copper- coloured quadruped hasn't got all
his shoes on before," squeaked a childish voice, now raised for the
iirst time.
" That's intended, gorfnor,'" growled Leather, riding on, indig-
nant at the idea of any one attempting to "sell him" with such
an old stable joke. So Leather passed on through the now
splendidly lit up streets, the large plate-glass windowed shops,
radiant with gas, exhibiting rich, many-coloured velvets, silver
gauzes, ribbons without end, fancy flowers, elegant shawls labelled
"Very chaste," "Patronised by .Royalty," " Quite the go !" and
white kid-gloves in such profusion that there seemed to be a pair
for every person in the place.
Mr. Leather established himself at the " Eclipse Livery and
Bait Stables," in Pegasus Street, or Peg Street, as it is generally
called, where he enacted the character of stud-groom to perfec-
tion, doing nothing himself, but seeing that others did his work,
and strutting consequentially with the corn-sieves at feeding time.
After Leather's long London experience, it is natural to suppose
that he would not be long in falling in with some old acquaintance
at a place like the "Wells," and the first night fortunately brought
him in contact with a couple of grooms who had had the honour
of his acquaintance when in all the radiance of his glass-blown
wigged prosperity as body-coachman to the Duke of Dazzleton,
and who knew nothing of the treadmill, or his subsequent career.
This introduction served with his own easy assurance, and the
deference country servants always pay to London ones, at once
to give him standing, and it is creditable to the etiquette of servi
tude to say, that on joining the "Mutton-chop and Mealy
potato Club," at the Cat and Bagpipes, on the second night after
his arrival, the whole club rose to receive him on entering, and
placed him in the post of honour, on the right of the president.
He was very soon quite at home with the whole of* them, and
ready to tell anything he knew of the great families in which ho
had lived. Of course, he abused the duke's place, and said he
had been obliged to give him "hup" at last, "bein' quite an
impossible man to live with ; indeed, his only wonder was, that he
CO MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
had been able to put hup with him so long." The duchess was t%
" good cretur," he said, and, indeed, it was mainly on her account
that he stayed, but as to the duke, he was — every thing that was
bad, in short.
Mr. Sponge, on the other hand, had no reason to complain of
the colours in which his stud-groom painted him. Instead of
being the shirtless strapper of a couple of vicious hack hunters,
Leather made himself out to be the general superintendent of the
opulent owner of a large stud. The exact number varied with the
number of glasses of grog Leather had taken, but he never had
less than a dozen, and sometimes as many as twenty hunters under
his care. These, he said, were planted all over the kingdom ; some
at Melton, to "'ant with the Quorn ;" some at Northampton, to
" 'unt with the Pytchley ; " some at Lincoln, to " 'unt with Lord
'Envy ;" and some at Louth, to "'unt with" — he didn't know
who. What a fine flattering, well-spoken world this is, when the
speaker can raise his own consequence by our elevation ! One
would think that " envy, hatred, malice, and all uncharitablc-
ness," had gone to California. A weak-minded man might have
his head turned by hearing the description given of him by his
friends. But hear the same party on the running-down tack ! —
when either his own importance is not involved, or dire offence
makes it worth his while "to cut off his nose to spite his face."
No one would recognise the portrait then drawn as one of the
same individual.
Mr. Leather, as we said before, was in the laudatory strain, but,
like many indiscreet people, he overdid it. Not content with
magnifying the stud to the liberal extent already described, he
must needs puff his master's riding, and indulge in insinuations
iibout " showing them all the way," and so on. Now nothing
" aggravates " other grooms so much as this sort of threat, and
few things travel quicker than these sort of vapourings to their
masters' ears. Indeed, we can only excuse the lengths to which
Leather went, on the ground of his previous coaching career not
having afforded him a due insight into the delicacies of the
hunting stable ; it being remembered that he was only now acting
as stud-groom for the first time. However, be that as it may, he
brewed up a pretty storm, and the longer it raged the stronger it
became.
" Ord dash it ! " exclaimed young Sparencck, the steeple-chase
rider, bursting into Scorer's billiard-room in the midst of a full
gathering, who were looking on at a grand game of poule, " Ord
clash it ! there's a fellow coming who swears by Jove that he'll
take the shine out of us all, ' cut us all down I ' "
" I'M play him for what he likes ! " exclaimed the cool, coatlcss
Captain Macer, striking his ball away for a cannon.
Mil. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 31
" Hang your play ! " replied Spareneck ; " you're always
thinking of play — it's limiting I'm talking of," bringing his heavy,
silver-mounted jockey-whip a crack down his leg.
" You don't say so ! " exclaimed Sam Shortcut, who had been
flattered into riding rather harder than he liked, and feared his
pluck might bo put to the test.
" What a ruffian ! " — (puff) — observed Mr. Waffles, taking his
dgar from his mouth as he sat on the bench, dressed as a racket-
player, looking on at the game, "he shalln't ride roughshod over
us."
" That he shall)? t! " exclaimed Caingey Thornton, Mr. Waffles's
premier toady, and constant trencher-man.
" Pll ride him ! " rejoined Mr. Spareneck, jockeying his arms,
and flourishing his whip as if he was at work, adding : "his old
brandy-nosed, frosty-whiskered trumpeter of a groom says he's
•coming down by the five o'clock train. I vote Ave go and meet
him — invite him to a steeple-chase by moonlight."
" I vote we go and see him, at all events," observed Frank
Hoppey, laying down his cue and putting on his coat, adding, " I
should like to see a man bold enough to beard a whole hunt —
especially such a hunt as ours.''''
" Finish the game first," observed Captain Macer, who had
rather the best of it.
" No, leave the balls as they are till we com^ back," rejoined
Xed Stringer ; " we shall be late. See, it's only ten to, now,"
continued he, pointing to the timepiece above the fire ; whereupon
there was a putting away of cues, hurrying on of coats, seeking of
hats, sorting of sticks, and a general desertion of the room for the
railway station.
CHAPTER VII.
OUR HERO ARRIVES AT LAVERICK WELLS.
Punctual to the moment, the railway train, conveying the
redoubtable genius, glid into the well-lighted, elegant little station
of Laverick Wells, and out of a first-class carriage emerged Mr.
Sponge, in a "down the road" coat, carrying a horse-sheet
wrapper in his hand. So small and insignificant did the station
seem after the gigantic ones of London, that Mr. Sponge thought
he had wasted his money in taking a first-class ticket, seeing there
was no one to know. Mr. Leather, who was in attendance, having
received him hat in hand, with all the deference due to the master
•of twenty hunters, soon undeceived him on that point. Having
32 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUIt.
cased hiui of his wrapper, and inquired about his luggage, and
despatched a porter for a fly, they stood together over the port-
manteau and hat-box till it arrived.
" How are the horses ? " asked Sponge.
" Oh, the osses be nicely, sir," replied Leather ; " they travelled
down uncommon well, and I've had 'em both removed sin they
com'd, so either on 'cm is fit to go i' the mornin' that you think
proper.""
" Where are the hounds ? " asked our hero.
"'Ounds be at Whirleypool Windmill," replied Leather, " that's
about five miles off."
" What sort of country is it ? " inquired Sponge.
" It be a stiffish country from all accounts, with a good deal o'
water jumpin' ; that is to say, the Liffey runs twistin' and twinin'
about 'it like a H'Eel."
" Then I'd better ride the brown, I think," observed Sponge,
after a pause : " he has size and stride enough to cover anything,
if he will but face water."
" I'll warrant him for that," replied Leather ; " only let the
Latchfords well into him, and he'll go."
" Are there many huntiug-men down ? " inquired our friend,
casually.
" Great many," replied Leather, " great many ; some good
'ands among 'em too ; at least so say their grums, though I never
believe all these jockeys say. There be some on 'em 'ere now,"
observed Leather, in an under tone, with a wink of his roguish
eye, and jerk of his head towards where a knot of them stood
eyeimr our friend most intently.
" Which ? " inquired Sponge, looking about the thinly-peopled
station.
"There," replied Leather, "those by the book-stall. That be
Mr. Waffles," continued he, giving his master a touch in the rib<
as he jerked his portmanteau into a fly, " that be Mr. Waffles,"
repeated he, with a knowing leer.
" Which ! " inquired Mr. Sponge eagerly.
" The gent in the green wide-awake 'at, and big-button'd over-
coat," replied Leather, " jest now aspeakin' to the youth in the
tweed and all tweed ; that be Master Caingey Thornton, as big a
little blackguard as any in the place — lives upon Waffles, and yet
never has a good word to say for him, no, nor for no one else —
and yet to 'ear the little devil a-talkin' to him, you'd really fancy
he believed there wasn't not never sich another man i' the world
as Waffles — not another sich rider — not another sich racket-player
— not another sich pigeon-shooter — not another sich fine chap
altogether."
" Has Thornton any horses ? " asked Sponge.
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 33
" Not he," replied Leather, " not he, nor the gen'lman next him
nouthcr — he, in the pilot coat, with the whip sticking out of the
pocket, nor the one in the coffee-coloured 'at, nor none on 'em in
fact;" adding, "they all live on Squire Waffles — breakfast with
him — dine with him — drink with him — smoke with him — and if
any on 'em 'appen to 'ave an 'orse, why they sell to him, and so
ride for nothin' themselves."
" A convenient sort of gentleman," observed Mr. Sponge,
thinking he, too, might accommodate him.
The fly-man now touched his hat, indicative of a wish to be off',
having a fare waiting elsewhere. Mr. Sponge directed him to
proceed to the Brunswick Hotel, while, accompanied by Leather,
he proceeded on foot to the stables.
Mr. Leather, of course, had the valuable stud under lock and
key, with every crevice and air-hole well stuffed with straw, as if
they had been the most valuable horses in the world. Having
produced the ring-key from his pocket, Mr. Leather opened tie
door, and having got his master in, speedily closed it, lest a breath
of fresh air might intrude. Having lighted a lucifer, he turned
on the gas, and exhibited the blooming-coated horses, well littered
in straw, showing that he was not the man to pay four-and-twenty
shillings a week for nothing. Mr. Sponge stood eyeing them for
some seconds with evident approbation.
" If any one asks you about the horses, you can say they are
mine, you know," at length observed he, casually, with an emphasis
on the mine.
" In course" replied Leather.
" I mean, you needn't say anything about their being jobs"
observed Sponge, fearing Leather mightn't exactly " take."
" You trust me," replied Leather, with a knowing wink and a
jerk of his elbow against his master's side; "you trust me,"
repeated he, with a look as much as to say, " we understand each
other."
" I've hadded a few to them, indeed," continued Leather, look-
ing to see how his master took it.
" Have you ? " observed Mr. Sponge, inquiringly.
" I've made out that you've as good as twenty, one way or
another," observed Leather ; " some 'ere, some there, all over in
fact, and that you jest run about the country, and 'unt with
'oever comes h'uppermost."
" "Well, and what's the upshot of it all ? " inquired Mr.
Sponge, thinking his groom seemed wonderfully enthusiastic in
his interest.
" Why, the hupshot of it is," replied Leather, " that the men are
all mad, and the women all wild to see you. I hear at my club,
the Mutton Chop and Mealy Potato Club, which is frequented by
34 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
flunkies as well as grams, that there's nothin' talked of at dinner
or tea, but the terrible rich stranger that's a comin', and the gals
are all pulling caps, who's to have the first chance."
" Indeed," observed Mr. Sponge, chuckling at the sensation he
was creating.
" The Miss Shapsets, there be five on 'em, have had a game at
fly loo for you," continued Leather, " at least so their little maid
tells me."
"Fly wlialV inquired Mr. Sponge.
" Fly loo," repeated Leather, "fly loo."
Mr. Sponge shook his head. For once he was not " fly."
" You see," continued Leather, in explanation, " their father is
one of them tight-laced candlestick priests wot abhors all sorts of
wice and himmorality, and won't stand card playin', or gamblin',
or nothin' o' that sort, so the young ladies when they want to
settle a point, who's to be married first, or who's to have the
richest 'usband, play fly loo. 'Sposing it's at breakfast time, they
all sit quiet and sober like round the table, lookin' as if butter
wouldn't melt in their mouths, and each has a lump o' sugar on
her plate, or by her cup, or somewhere, and whoever can 'tice a
fly to come to her sugar first, wins the wager, or whatever it is
they play for."
" Five on 'em," as Leather said, being a hopeless number to
extract any good from, Mr. Sponge changed the subject by giving
orders for the morrow.
Mr. Sponge's appearance being decidedly of the sporting order,
and his horses maintaining the character, did not alleviate the agi-
tated minds of the sporting beholders, ruffled as they were with
the threatening, vapouring insinuations of the coachman-groom,
Peter Leather. There is nothing sets men's backs up so readily,
as a hint that any one is coming to take the " shine " out of them
across country. We have known the most deadly feuds engen-
dered between parties who never spoke to each other by adroit go-
betweens reporting to each what the other said, or, perhaps, did
not say, but what the "go-betweens" knew would so rouse the
British lion as to make each ride to destruction if necessary.
" He's a varmint-looking chap," observed Mr. AVaffles, as the
party returned from the railway station ; " shouldn't wonder if he
can go — dare say he'll try — shouldn't wonder if he's floored —
awfully stiff country this for horses that are not used to it — most
likely his are Leicestershire nags, used to fly — won't do here. If
he attempts to take some of our big banked bullfinches in his
stride, with a yawner on each side, will fret into grief."
" Hang him," interrupted Caingey Thornton, " there are good
men in all countries."
" So there are ! " exclaimed Mr. Sparencck,thc steeple-chase rider.
MB. SPONGE'S SPOETING TOUE. 35
" I've no notion of a fellow lording it, because he happens to
come out of Leicestershire," rejoined Mr. Thornton.
"Nor I ! " exclaimed Mr. Spareneck.
" Why doesn't he stay in Leicestershire ? " asked Mr. Hoppey,
now raising his voice for the first time — adding, " Who asked
him here ? "
" "Who, indeed ? " sneered Mr. Thornton.
In this mood our friends arrived at the Imperial Hotel, where
there was always a dinner the day before hunting — a dinner that,
somehow, was served up in Mr. Waffles's rooms, who was allowed
the privilege of paying for all those who did not pay for them-
selves ; rather a considerable number, we believe.
The best of everything being good enough for the guests, and
profuse liberality the order of the day, the cloth generally disap-
peared before a contented audience, whatever humour they might
have sat down in. As the least people can do who dine at an inn
and don't pay their own shot, is to drink the health of the man
who does pay, Mr. Waffles was always lauded and applauded to
the skies — such a master — such a sportsman — such knowledge —
such science — such a pattern-card. On this occasion the toast
was received with extra enthusiasm, for the proposer, Mr. Caingey
Thornton, who was desperately in want of a mount, after going
the rounds of the old laudatory course, alluded to the threatened
vapourings of the stranger, and expressed his firm belief that he
would "meet with his match," a "taking of the bull by the
horns," that met with very considerable favour from the wine-
flushed party, the majority of whom, at that moment, made very
" small," in their own minds, of the biggest fence that ever was
seen.
There is nothing so easy as going best pace over the mahogany.
Mr. Waffles, who was received with considerable applause, and
patting of the table, responded to the toast in his usual felicitous
style, assuring the company that he lived but for the enjoyment of
their charming society, and that all the money in the world would
be useless, if he hadn't Laverick Wells to spend it in. With
regard to the vapourings of a " certain gentleman," he thought it
would be very odd if some of them could not take the shine out of
him, observing that " Brag " was a good dog, but " Holdfast "
was a better, with certain other sporting similes and phrases, all
indicative of showing fight. The steam is soon got up after
dinner, and as they were all of the same mind, and all agreed that
a gross insult had been offered to the hunt in general, and them-
selves in particular, the only question was, how to revenge it. At
last they hit upon it. Old Slocdolager, the late master of the
hunt, had been in the habit of having Tom Towler, the huntsman,
to his lodgings the night before hunting, where, over a glass of
d 2
36 MB. SPONGE'S SBOBTING TOUB.
gin-and-water, they discussed the doings of the day, and the
general arrangements of the country.
Mr. Waffles had had him in sometimes, though for a different
purpose— at least, in reality for a different purpose, though he
always made hunting the excuse for sending for him, and that
purpose was, to try how many silver fox's heads full of port wine
Tom could carry off without tumbling, and the old fellow being
rather liquorishly inclined, had never made any objection to the
experiment. Mr. Waffles now wanted him, to endeavour, under
the mellowing influence of drink, to get him to enter cordially
into what he knew would be distasteful to the old sportsman's
feelings, namely, to substitute a "drag" for the legitimate find
and chase of the fox. Fox-hunting, though exciting and ex-
hilarating at all times, except, perhaps, when the " fallows are
flying," and the sportsman feels that in all probability the further
he goes the further he is left behind — Fox-hunting, we say,
though exciting and exhilarating, does not, when the real truth is
spoken, present such conveniences for neck-breaking, as people,
who take their ideas from Mr. Ackermann's print-shop window,
imagine. That there are large places in most fences is perfectly
true ; but that there are also weak ones is also the fact, and a
practised eye catches up the latter uncommonly quick. Therefore,
though a madman may ride at the big places, a sane man is not
expected to follow ; and even should any one be tempted so to do,
the madman having acted pioneer, will have cleared the way, or at
all events proved its practicability for the follower.
In addition to this, however, hounds having to smell as they go,
cannot travel at the ultra steeple-chase pace, so opposed to " look-
ing before you leap," and so conducive to danger and difficulty,
and as going even at a fair pace depends upon the state of the at-
mosphere, and the scent the fox leaves behind, it is evident that
where mere daring hard riding is the object, a fox-hunt cannot be
depended upon for furnishing the necessary accommodation. A
drag-hunt is quite a different thing. The drag can be made to
any strength ; enabling hounds to run as if they were tied to it,
and can be trailed so as to bring in all the dangerous places in the
country with a certain air of plausibility, enabling a man to look
round and exclaim, as he crams at a bullfinch or brook, " he's
leading us over a most desperate country — never saw such fencing
in all my life ! " Drag-hunting, however, as we said before, is
not popular with sportsmen, certainly not with huntsmen, and
though our friends with their wounded feelings determined to
have one, they had yet to smooth over old Tom to get him to
come into their views. That was now the difficulty.
ME. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR.
37
CHAPTER VIII.
or.!) TOM TOWLES
$r&r
TOM IN HUNTING JI.UllLl.MI.N I >.
=^f®fIEKE are few more
difficult persons tc
identify than a
huntsman in un-
dress, and of all
queer ones perhaps
old Tom Towler
was the queerest.
^--- »f Tom in his person
ll2sC&^ furnished an apt
illustration of the
right appropriation
of talent and the
fitness of things,
for he would neither
have made a groom,
nor a coachman, nor
a postilion, nor a footman, nor a ploughman, nor a mechanic, nor
anything we know of, and yet he was first-rate as a huntsman.
He was too weak for a groom, too small for a coachman, too ugly
for a postilion, too stunted for a footman, too light for a plough-
man, too useless-looking for almost anything.
Any one looking at him in " mufti " would exclaim, " what an
unfortunate object ! " and perhaps offer him a penny, while in his
hunting habiliments lords would hail him with, " Well, Tom, how
are you ? " and baronets ask him " how he was ? " Commoners
felt honoured by his countenance, and yet, but for hunting, Tom
would have been wasted — a cypher — an inapplicahle sort of man.
Old Tom, in his scarlet coat, black cap, and boots, and Tom in his
undress — say, shirt-sleeves, shorts, grey stockings and shoes, bore
about the same resemblance to each other that a three months
dead jay nailed to a keeper's lodge bears to the bright-plumaged
bird when flying about. On horseback, Tom was a cockey, wiry-
looking, keen-eyed, grim-visaged, hard-bitten little fellow, sitting
as though he and his horse were all one, while on foot he was the
most shambling, scambling, crooked-going crab that ever was
seen. He was a complete mash of a man. He had been scalped
by the branch of a tree, his nose knocked into a thing like a
button by the kick of a horse, his teeth sent down his throat by a
38 MR. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR.
fall, his collar-bone fractured, his left leg broken and his right arm
ditto, to say nothing of damage to his ribs, fingers, and feet, and
baving had his face scarified like pork by repeated brushing:;
through strong thorn fences.
But we will describe him as be appeared before Mr. Waffles, and
the gentlemen of the Laverick Wells Hunt, on the night of Mr.
Sponge's arrival. Tom's spirit being roused at hearing the boast-
ings of Mr. Leather, and thinking, perhaps, his master might
have something to say, or thinking, perhaps, to partake of the
eleemosynary drink generally going on in large houses of public
entertainment, had taken up his quarters in the bar of the
" Imperial," where he was attentively perusing the " meets " in
Belts Life, reading how the Atherstone met at Gopsall, the Bedalc
at Hornby, the Cottesmore at Tilton Wood, and so on, with on
industry worthy of a better cause ; for Tom neither knew country,
nor places, nor masters, nor hounds, nor huntsmen, nor anything,
though he still felt an interest in reading where they were going
to hunt. Thus he sat with a quick ear, one of the few undamaged
organs of his body, cocked to hear if Tom Towler was asked for ;
when, a waiter dropping his name from the landing of the stair-
case to the hall porter, asking if anybody had seen anything of
him, Tom folded up his paper, put it in his pocket, and passing
his hand over the few straggling bristles yet sticking about his
bald head, proceeded, hat in hand, upstairs to his master's
room.
His appearance called forth a round of view halloos ! Who-hoops !
Tally-ho's ! Hark forwards ! amidst which, and the waving of
napkins, and general noises, Tom proceeded at a twisting, limping,
halting, sideways sort of scramble up the room. His crooked legs
didn't seem to have an exact understanding with his body which
way they were to go ; one, the right one, being evidently inclined
to lurch off to the side, while the left one went stamp, stamp,
stamp, as if equally determined to resist any deviation.
At length he reached the top of the table, where sat his master,
with the glittering Fox's head before him. Having made a sort of
scratch bow, Tom proceeded to stand at ease, as it were, on the
left leg, while he placed the late recusant right, which was a trifle
shorter, as a prop behind. No one, to look at the little wizen'd
old man in the loose dark frock, baggy striped waistcoat, and patent
cord breeches, extending below where the calves of his bow legs
ought to have been, would have supposed that it was the noted
h untsman and dashing rider, Tom Towler, whose name was celebrated
throughout the country. He might have been a village tailor, or
sexton, or barber ; anything but a hero.
" Well, Tom," said Mr. Waffles, taking up the Fox's head, as
Tom came to anchor by his side, " how are you ? "
MB. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR. 30
" Nicely, thank you, sir," replied Tom, giving the bald head
another sweep.
Mr. Waffles.—" What'll you drink ? "
Tom. — " Port, if you please, sir."
" There it is for you, then," said Mr. Waffles, brimming the
Fox's head, which held about the third of a bottle (an inn bottle at
least) and handing it to him.
" Gentlemen all," said Tom, passing his sleeve across his mouth,
and casting a side-long glance at the company as he raised the
cup to drink their healths.
He quaffed it off at a draught.
" Well, Tom, and what shall we do to-morrow ? " asked Mr.
Waffles, as Tom replaced the Fox's head, nose uppermost, on the
table.
" Why, we must draw Ribston Wood fust, I 'spose," replied Tom,
"and then on to Bradwell-grove, unless you thought well of tryin'
Chesterton-common on the road, or "
" Aye, aye," interrupted Waffles, " I know all that ; but what I
want to know is. whether w:e can make sure of a run. We want
to give this great metropolitan swell a benefit. You know who I
mean ? "
" The gen'leman as is com'd to the Brunswick, I 'spose,"
replied Tom ; " at least, as is comin', for I've not heard that he's
com'd yet."
" Oh, but he has,''' replied Mr. Waffles, " and I make no doubt
will be out to-morrow."
" S — o — 0," observed Tom, in a long drawled note.
" Well, now ! do you think you can engage to give us a run ? "
asked Mr. Waffles, seeing his huntsman did not seem inclined to
help him to his point.
" I'll do my best," replied Tom, cautiously running the many
contingencies through his mind.
" Take another drop of something," said Mr. Waffles, again
raising the Fox's head. " What'll you have ? "
" Port, if you please," replied Tom.
"There," said Mr. Waffles, handing him another bumper;
" drink, Fox-hunting."
" Fox-huntin'," said old Tom, quaffing off the measure, as
before. A flush of life came into his weather-beaten face, just as
a glow of heat enlivens a blacksmith's hearth, after a touch of the
bellows.
" You must never let this bumptious cock beat us," observed
Mr. Waffles.
" No — o — o," replied Tom, adding, " there's no fear of that."
" But he swears he will ! " exclaimed Mr. Caingey Thornton.
"He swears there isn't a man shall come within a field of him."
40 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
" Indeed," observed Tom, with a twinkle of his little bright
eyes.
" I tell yon what, Tom," observed Mr. Waffles, " we must sarve
him out, somehow."
" Oh ! he'll sarve hissel' out, in all probability," replied Tom ;
carelessly adding, " these boastin' chaps always do."
" Couldn't we contrive something," asked Mr. Waffles, " to draw
him out ? "
Tom was silent. He was a hunting huntsman, nob a riding
one.
" Have a glass of something," said Mr. Waffles, again appealing
to the Fox's head.
'•'Thank you, sir, I've had a glass," replied Tom, sinking the
second one.
" What will you have ? " asked Mr. Waffles.
" Port, if you please," replied Tom.
" Here it is," rejoined Mr. Waffles, again handing him the
measure.
Up went the cup, over went the contents ; but Tom set it down
with a less satisfied face than before. He had had enough. The
left leg prop, too, gave way, and he was nearly toppling on the
table.
Having got a chair for the dilapidated old man, they again
essayed to get him into their line with better success than before.
Having plied him well with port, they now plied him well with
the stranger, and what with the one and the other, and a glass or
two of brandy-and-water, Tom became very tractable, and it was
ultimately arranged that they should have a drag over the very
stiffest parts of the country, wherein all who liked should take
part, but that Mr. Caingey Thornton and Mr. Spareneek should be
especially deputed to wait upon Mr. Sj)onge, and lead him into
mischief. Of course it was to be a " profound secret," and
equally, of course, it stood a good chance of being kept, seeing how
many were in it, the additional number it would have to be com-
municated to before it could be carried out, and the happy state
old Tom was in for arranging matters. Nevertheless, our friends
at the " Imperial " congratulated themselves on their success ; and
after a few minutes spent in discussing old Tom on his with-
drawal, the party broke up, to array themselves in the splendid
dress uniform of the " Hunt," to meet again at Miss Jumnheavy's
ball.
ME. SPONGE'S SFOJtTING TOUR.
41
CHAPTER IX.
THE 3IEET.
ARLY
ENJOYING THE VIEW.
to bed and early to rise
being among Mr. Sponge's
maxims, he was enjoying the
view of the pantiles at the
back of his hotel shortly after
daylight the next morning, a
time about as difficult to fix
in a November day as the age
of a lady of a " certain age."
It takes even an expeditious
dresser ten minutes or a
quarter of an hoar extra the
first time he has to deal with
boots and breeches ; and Mr.
Sponge being quite a pattern
card in his peculiar line, of
course took a good deal more
to get himself " up."
An accustomed eye could
see a more than ordinary stir in the streets that morning.
Riding-masters and their assistants might be seen going along
with strings of saddled and side-saddled screws ; flys began to roll
at an earlier hour, and natty tigers to kick about in buckskins
prior to departing with hunters, good, bad, and indifferent.
Each man had told his partner at Miss Jumpheavy's ball of the
capital trick they were going to play the stranger; and a desire
to see the stranger, far more than a desire to see the trick, caused
many fair ones to forsake their downy couches who had much
better have kept them.
The world is generally very complacent with regard to strangers,
so long as they are strangers, generally making them out to be a
good deal better than they really are, and Mr. Sponge came in for
his full share of stranger credit. They not only brought all the
twenty horses Leather said he had scattered about to Laverick "Wells,
but made him out to have a house in Eaton-square, a yacht at
Cowes, and a first-rate moor in Scotland, and some said a peerage in
expectancy. No wonder that he "drew," as theatrical people say.
Let us now suppose him breakfasted, and ready for a start.
He was "got up" with uncommon care in the most complete
style of the severe order of sporting costume. It being now the
4.2 Mil. SFONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
commencement of the legitimate hunting season — the first week
in November — he availed himself of the privileged period for
turning out in everything new. Rejecting the now generally
worn cap, he adhered to the heavy, close-napped hat, described in
our opening chapter, whose connexion with his head, or back, if
it came off, was secured by a small black silk cord, hooked through
the band by a fox's tooth, and anchored to a button inside the
haven of his low coat-collar. His neck was enveloped in the
ample folds of a large white silk cravat, tied in a pointing
diamond tie, and secured with a large silver horse-shoe pin, the
shoe being almost large enough for the foot of a young donkey.
His low, narrow-collared coat was of the infinitesimal order ;
that is to say, a coat, and yet as little of a coat as possible — very
near a jacket, in fact. The seams, of course, were outside, and
were it not for the extreme strength and evenness of the sewing
and the evident intention of the thing, an ignorant person might
have supposed that he had had his coat turned. A double layer
of cloth extended the full length of the outside of the sleeves,
much in the fashion of the stage-coachmen's great-coats in former
times ; and instead of cuffs, the sleeves were carried out to the
ends of the fingers, leaving it to the fancy of the wearer to sport
a long cuff or a short cuff, or no cuff at all — just as the weather
dictated. Though the coat was single-breasted, he had a hole
made on the button side, to enable him to keep it together by
means of a miniature snaffle, instead of a button. The snaffle
passed across his chest, from whence the coatee, flowing easily
back, displayed the broad ridge and furrow of a white cord waist-
coat, with a low step collar, the vest reaching low down his figure,
with large flap pockets and a nick out in front, like a coachman's.
Instead of buttons, the waistcoat was secured with foxes' tusks
and catgut loops, while a heavy curb chain, passing from one
pocket to the other, raised the impression that there was a watch
in one and a bunch of seals in the other. The waistcoat was
broadly bound with white binding, and, like the coat, evinced
great strength and powers of resistance. His breeches were of a
still broader furrow than the waistcoat, looking as if the ploughman
had laid two ridges into one. They came low down the leg, and
were met by a pair of well-made, well put on, very brown topped
boots, a colour then unknown at Laverick Wells. His spurs were
bright and heavy, with formidable necks and rowels, whoso
slightest touch would make a horse wince, and put him on his
good behaviour.
Nor did the great slapping broAvn horse, Hercules, turn out less
imposingly than his master. Leather, though not the man to
work himself, had a very good idea of work, and right manfully
he made the helpers at the Eclipse livery and bait stables strap
MB. SPOXGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 43
and groom his horses. Hercules was a fine animal. It did not
require a man to be a great judge of a horse to see that. Even
the ladies, though perhaps they would rather have had him a
white or a cream colour, could not but admire his nut-brown
muzzle, his glossy coat, his silky mane, and the elegant way in
which he carried his flowing tail. His step was delightful to look
at — so free, so accurate, and so easy. And that reminds us that
Ave may as well be getting Mr. Sponge up — a feat of no easy
accomplishment. Few hack hunters are without their little
peculiarities. Some are runaways — some kick— some bite — some
go tail first on the road — some go tail first at their fences— some
rush as if they were going to eat them, others baulk them
altogether — and few, very few, give satisfaction. Those that do,
generally retire from the public stud to the private one. But to
our particular quadruped, "Hercules."
Mr. Sponge was not without his misgivings that, regardless of
being on his preferment, the horse might exhibit more of his
peculiarity than would forward his master's interests, and,
independently of the disagreeablencss of being kicked off at the
cover side, not being always compensated for by falling soft, Mr.
Sponge thought, as the meet was not far off, and he did not sport
a cover hack, it would look quite as well to ride his horse quietly
on as go in a fly, provided always he could accomplish the mount
— the mount — like the man walking with his head under his arm
— being the first step to everything.
Accordingly, Mr. Leather had the horse saddled and accoutred
as quietly as possible — his warm clothing put over the saddle
immediately, and everything kept as much in the usual course as
possible, so that the noble animal's temper might not be ruffled by
unaccustomed trouble or unusual objects. Leather having seen
that the horse could not eject Mr. Sponge even in trousers, had
little fear of his dislodging him in boots and breeches ; still it was
desirable to avoid all unseemly contention, and maintain the high
character of the stud, by which means Leather felt that his own
character and consequence would best be maintained. Accordingly,
he refrained from calling in the aid of any of the stable assistants,
preferring for once to do a little work himself, especially when the
rider was up to the trick, and not "a gent" to be cajoled into
"trying a horse." Mr. Sponge, punctual to his time, appeared at
the stable, and after much patting, whistling, so — so — ing, my
man, and general ingratiation, the redoubtable nag was led out of
the stable into a well-littered straw-yard, where, though he might
be gored by a bull if he fell, the "eyes of England " at all events
would not witness the floorer. Horses, however, have wonderful
memories and discrimination. Though so differently attired to
what he was on the occasion of his trial, the horse seemed to
44 MB. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUE.
recognise Mr. Sponge, and independently of a few snorts as be was
led out, and an indignant stamp or two of his foot as it was let down,
after Mr. Sponge was mounted he took things very quietly.
"Now," said. Leather, in an under-tone, patting the horse's
arched neck, " I'll give you a hint ; they're a goin' to run a drag
to try what he's made on, so be on the look-out."
" How do you know ? " asked Mr. Sponge, in surprise, drawing
his reins as he spoke.
" IJcnow" replied Mr. Leather, with a wink.
Just then the horse began to plunge, and paw, and give symp-
toms of uneasiness, and not wishing to fret or exhibit his weak
points, Mr. Sponge gave him his head, and passing through the
side-gate was presently in the street. He didn't exactly understand
it, but having full confidence in his horsemanship, and believing
the one he was on required nothing but riding, he was not afraid
to take his chance.
Not being the man to put his candle under a bushel, Mr. Sponge
took the principal streets on his way out of town. We are not
sure that he did not go rather out of his way to get them in, but
that is neither here nor there, seeing he was a stranger who didn't
know the way. What a sensation his appearance created as the
gallant brown stepped proudly and freely up Coronation Street,
throwing his smart, clean, well-put-on head up and down on the
unrestrained freedom of the snaffle.
" Oh, d — n it, there he is ! " exclaimed Mr. Spareneck, jumping
up from the breakfast-table, and nearly sweeping the contents off
by catching the cloth with his spur.
" Where ? " exclaimed half-a-dozen voices, amid a general rush
to the windows.
"What a fright ! " exclaimed little Miss Martindale, whispering
into Miss Beauchamp's ear: "I'm sure anybody may have him for
me," though she felt in her heart that he was far from bad looking.
" I wonder how long he's taken to put on that choker,"
observed Mr. Spareneck, eyeing him intently, not without an
inward qualm that he had set himself a more difficult task than
he imagined, to "cut him down," especially when he looked at
the noble animal he bestrode, and the masterly way he sat him.
" AVhat a pair of profligate boots," observed Captain Whitfield,
as our friend now passed his lodgings.
"It would be the duty of a right-thinking man to ride over a
fellow in such a pair," observed his friend, Mr. Cox, who was
breakfasting with him.
" Eide over a fellow in such a pair ! " exclaimed Whitfield.
"No well-bred horse would face such things, I should think."
" He seems to think a good deal of himself ! " observed Mr.
Cox, as Sponge cast an admiring eye down his shining boot.
MB. SPONGE'S SPOETIXG TOUR. 45
" Shouldn't wonder," replied Whitfield ; "perhaps he'll have the
conceit taken out of him before night."
" Well, I hope you'll be in time, old boy ! " exclaimed Mr. Waffles
to himself, as looking down from his bed-room window, he espied
Mr. Sponge passing up the street on his way to cover. Mr. Waffles
was just out of bed, and had yet to dress and breakfast.
One man in scarlet sets all the rest on the fidget, and without
troubling to lay " that or that " together, they desert their break-
fasts, hurry to the stables, get out their horses, and rattle away,
lest their watches should be wrong, or some arrangement made that
they are ignorant of. The hounds, too, were on, as was seen, as
well by their footmarks, as by the bob, bob, bobbing of sundry
black caps above the hedges, on the Borrowdon-road, as the hunts-
man and whips proceeded at that pleasant post-boy trot, that has
roused the wrath of so many riders against horses that they could
not get to keep in time.
Now look at old Tom, cocked jauntily on the spicy bay, and see
what a different Tom he is to what he was last night. Instead of
a battered, limping, shabby-looking, little old man, he is all alive,
and rises to the action of his horse, as though they were all one.
A fringe of grey hair protrudes beneath his smart velvet cap,
which sets off a weather-beaten, but keen and expressive face, lit
up with little piercing black eyes. See how chirpy and cheery he
is ; how his right arm keeps rising and falling with his whip,
beating responsive to the horse's action with the butt-end against
his thigh. His new scarlet coat imparts a healthy hue to his face,
and good boots and breeches hide the imperfections of his bad
legs. His hounds seem to partake of the old man's gaiety, and
gather round his horse, or frolic forward on the grassy sidings of
the road, till, getting almost out of earshot, a single " yooi doit! — ■
Arrogant!" — or "here again, Brusher !"" brings them cheerfully
back to whine and look in the old man's face for applause. Nor
is he chary of his praise. "G — oood bctch ! — Arrogant ! — g — 000&
betch ! " says he, leaning over his horse's shoulder towards her,
and jerking his hand to induce her to proceed forward again. So
the old man trots gaily on, now making of his horse, now coaxing
a hound, now talking to a " whip," now touching or taking off his
cap as he passes a sportsman, according to the estimation in which
he holds him.
As the hounds reach Whirleypool Windmill, there is a grand
rush of pedestrians to meet them. First comes a velveteen-
jacketed, leather-legginged keeper, with whom Tom (albeit suspi-
cious of his honesty) thinks it prudent to shake hands ; the miller
and he, too, greet ; and forthwith a black bottle with a single
glass make their appearance, and pass current with the company.
Then the earth-stopper draws nigh, and, resting a hand on Tom's
46 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
horse's shoulder, whispers confidentially in his ear. The pedestrian
sportsman of the country, too, has something to say ; also a horse-
breaker; while groups of awe-stricken children stand staring at the
mighty Tom, thinking him the greatest man in the world.
Railways and fox-hunting make most people punctual, and in
less than five minutes from the halting of the hounds by the
Windmill, the various roads leading up to it emit dark-coated
grooms, who, dismounting, proceed to brush off the mud sparks,
and rectify any little derangement the horses or their accoutre-
ments may have contracted on the journey. Presently Mr.
Sponge, and such other gentlemen as have ridden their own horses
on, cast up, while from the eminence the road to Laverick "Wells
is distinctly traceable with scarlet coats and flys, with furs and
flaunting feathers. Presently the foremost riders begin to canter
up the hill, when
All around is gay, men, horses, dogs,
And in each smiling countenance appears
Fresh blooming health and universal joy.
Then the ladies mingle with the scene, some on horseback, some
in flys, all chatter and prattle as usual, some saying smart things,
some trying, all making themselves as agreeable as possible, and
of course as captivating. Some were in ecstasies at dear Miss
Jumpheavy's ball — she was such a nice creature — such a charming
ball, and so well managed, while others were anticipating the
delights of Mrs. Tom Hoppey's, and some again were asking which
was Mr. Sponge. Then up went the eye-glasses, while Mr. Sponge
sat looking as innocent and as killing as he could. " Dear me ! "
exclaimed one, "he's younger than I thought." "That's him, is it ?"
observed another ; " I saw him ride up the street ; " while the pro-
priety-playing ones praised his horse, and said it was a beauty.
The hounds, which they all had come to see, were never
looked at.
Mr. Waffles, like many men with nothing to do, was most
unpunctual. He never seemed to know what o'clock it was, and
yet he had a watch, hung in chains, and gewgaws, like a lady's
chatelaine. Hunting partook of the general confusion. He did
not profess to throw off till eleven, but it was often nearly twelve
before he cast up. Then he would come up full tilt, surrounded
by " scarlets," like a general with his staff ; and once at the meet,
there was a prodigious hurry to begin, equalled only by the eager-
ness to leave off. On this auspicious day he hove in sight, coming
best pace along the road, about twenty minutes before twelve, with
a more numerous retinue than usual. In dress, Mr. Waffles was
the light, butterfly order of sportsman — once-round tie, French
polish, paper boots, and so on. On this occasion he sported a
shirt-collar with three or four blue lines, and then a white space
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
47
followed by three or more blue lines, the whole terminating in blue
spots about the size of fourpenny pieces at the points ; a once-
round blue silk tie, with white spots and flying ends. His coat
was a light, jackety sort of thing, with little pockets behind, some-
thing in the style of Mr. Sponge's (a docked dressing-gown), but
wanting the outside seaming, back strapping, and general strength,
that characterised Mr. .Sponge's. His waistcoat, of course, was a
worked one — heart's-ease mingled with foxes' heads, on a true blue
ground, the gift of — we'll not say who — his leathers were of the
finest doe-skin, and his long- topped, pointed-toed boots so thin as
to put all idea of wet or mud out of the question.
Such was the youth who now cantered up and took off his cap
to the rank, beauty, and fashion, assembled at Whirleypool "Windmill.
He then proceeded to pay his respects in detail. At length, having
exhausted his "nothings," and said the same thing over again in
a dozen different ways to a dozen different ladies, he gave a slight
jerk of the head to Tom Towler, who forthwith whistled his hounds
together, and attended by the whips, bustled from the scene.
CHAPTER X.
Till: FIND, AXD THE FINISH.
EPPIXG HUNT, in its most
palmy days could not equal
the exhibition that now took
place. Some of the more
lively of the horses, tired of
waiting, perhaps pinched by
the cold, for most of them
were newly clipped, evinced
their approbation of the
move, by sundry squeals and
capers, which being caught
by others in the neigh-
hourhood, the infection
quickly spread, and in less
than a minute there was
such a scene of rocking,
and rearing, and kicking,
and prancing, and neighing,
and shooting over heads,
and rolling over tails, and
hanging en by manes, mingled with such screamings from the
U'lAlN GKI2A.TGI -.
4S MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
ladies in the flys, and such hearty-sounding kicks against splash
boards and fly bottoms, from sundry of the vicious ones in harness,
as never was witnessed. One gentleman, in a bran new scarlet,
mounted on a flourishing pie-bald, late the property of Mr. Batty,
stood pawing and fighting the air, as if in the saw-dust circle, his
unfortunate rider clinging round his neck, expecting to have the
beast back over upon him. Another little wiry chestnut, with
abundance of rings, racing martingale, and tackle generally, just
turned tail on the crowd and ran off home as hard as ever he could
lay legs to the ground ; while a good steady bay cob, with a barrel
like a butt, and a tail like a hearth-brush, having selected the
muddiest, dirtiest place he could find, deliberately proceeded to lie
down, to the horror of his rider, Captain Grcatgun, of the royal
navy, who, feeling himself suddenly touch mother earth, thought
he was going to be swallowed up alive, and was only awoke from
the delusion by the shouts of the foot people, telling him to get
clear of his horse before he began to roll.
Hercules would fain have joined the truant set, and, at the first
commotion, up went his great back, and down went his ears, with
a single lash out behind that meant mischief, but Mr. Sponge was
on the alert, and just gave him such a dig with his spurs as
restored order, without exposing anything that anybody could
take notice of.
The sudden storm was quickly lulled. The spilt ones scrambled
up ; the loose riders got tighter hold of their horses ; the scream-
ing fair ones sunk languidly in their carriages ; and the late
troubled ocean of equestrians fell into irregular line en route for
the cover.
Bump, bump, bump ; trot, trot, trot ; jolt, jolt, jolt ; shake,
shake, shake ; and carriages and cavalry got to Ribston Wood
somehow or other. It is a long cover on a hill-side, from which
parties, placing themselves in the green valley below, can see hounds
"draw," that is to say, run through with their noses to the ground,
if there are any men foolish enough to believe that ladies care for
seeing such things. However, there they were.
" Eu lea, in ! " cries old Tom, with a wave of his arm, finding
he can no longer restrain the ardour of the pack as they approach,.
and thinking to save his credit, by appearing to direct. " Eu leuy
in ! " repeats he, with a heartier cheer, as the pack charge the
rotten fence with a crash that echoes through the wood. The
whips scuttle off to their respective points, gentlemen feel their
horses' girths, hats are thrust firmly on the head, and the sherry
and brandy disks begin to be drained.
" Tally ho ! " cries a countryman at the top of the wood, hoist-
ing his hat on a stick. At the magic sound, fear comes over some,
joy over others, intense anxiety over all. What commotion \
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTIXCr TOUR. 49
What indecision! What confusion! ""Which way? — Which
way ? " is the cry.
" Twang, twang, twang" goes old Tom's horn at the top of the
wood, whither he seems to have flown, so quick has he got there.
A dark-coated gentleman on a good family horse solves the
important question — "Which way ?" — by diving at once into the
wood, crashing along till he comes to a cross-road that leads to the
top, when the scene opening to " open fresh fields and pastures
new," discloses divers other sections struggling up in long drawn
iilcs, following other leaders, all puffing, and wheezing and holding
on by the manes, many feeling as if they had had enough already
— " Quick! " is the word, for the tail-hounds are flying the fence
out of the first field over the body of the pack, which are running
almost mute at best pace beyond, looking a good deal smaller
than is agreeable to the eyes of a sportsman.
" F — o — o — r — rard ! " screams old Tom, flying the fence aftef
them, followed by jealous jostling riders in scarlet and colours;
some anxious, some easy, some wanting to be at it, some wanting
to look as if they did, some wishing to know if there was anything
on the far side.
Now Tom tops another fence, rising like a rocket and dropping
like a bird; still "F — o — o — r — rard!" is the cry — away they
go at racing pace.
The field draws out like a telescope, leaving the largest portion
at the end, and many — the fair and fat ones in particular — seeing
the hopelessness of the case, pull up their horses, while yet on an
eminence that commands a view. Fifteen or twenty horsemen
enter for the race, and dash forward, though the hounds rather
gain on old Tom, and the further they go the smaller the point of
the telescope becomes. The pace is awful ; many would give in
but for the ladies. At the end of a mile or so, the determined
ones show to the front, and the spirters and " make-believes "
gladly avail themselves of their pioneering powers.
Mr. Sponge, who got well through the wood, has been going at
his ease, the great striding brown throwing the large fields behind
him with ease, and taking his leaps safely and well. He now
shows to the front, and old Tom, who is still " F — o—o — r — rard-
ing " to his hounds, either rather falls back to the field or the
field draws upon him. At all events they get together somehow.
A belt of Scotch fir plantation, with a stiffish fence on each side,
tries their mettle and the stoutness of their hats : crash they get
through it, the noise they make among the thorns and rotten
branches resembling the outburst of a fire. Several gentlemen
here decline under cover of the trees.
" F — o — o — r — rard! " screams old Tom, as he dives through
the stiff fence and lands in the field outside the plantation. He
50 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
might have saved his breath, for the hounds were beating him as
it was. Mr. Sponge bores through the same place, little aided,
however, by anything old Tom has done to clear the way for him,
and the rest follow in his wake.
The field is now reduced to six, and two of the number, Mr.
■Spareneck and Caingey Thornton, become marked in their atten-
tion to our hero. Thornton is riding Mr. Waffles' crack steeple-
chaser " Dare-Devil," and Mr. Spareneck is on a first-rate hunter
belonging to the same gentleman, but they have not been able to
get our friend Sponge into grief. On the contrary, his horse,
though lathered, goes as strong as ever, and Mr. Sponge, seeing
their design, is as careful of him as possible, so as not to lose
ground. His fine, strong, steady seat, and quiet handling, con-
trasts well with Thornton's rolling bucketing style, who has already
begun to ply a heavy cutting whip, in aid of his spurs at his fences,
accompanied with a half frantic "g — u — r — r — r along ! " and
inquires of the horse if he thinks he stole him ?
The three soon get in front ; fast as they go, the hounds go
faster, and fence after fence is thrown behind them, just as a girl
throws her skipping-rope.
Tom and the whips follow, grinning with their tongues in their
cheeks, Tom still screeching " F — o — o — o — rard ! — /'— o — o — o —
rarcl ! " at intervals.
A big stone wall, built with mortar, and coped with heavy blocks
of stone, is taken by the three abreast, for which they .'are rewarded
by a gallop up Stretchfurrow pasture, from the summit of which
they see the hounds streaming away to a fine grass country below,
with pollard willows dotted here and there in the bottom.
" Water/" says our friend Sponge to himself, wondering whether
Hercules would face it. A desperate black bullfinch, so thick
that they could hardly see through it, is shirked by consent, for a
gate which a countryman opens, and another fence or two being
passed, the splashing of some hounds in the water, and the shaking
of others on the opposite bank, show that, as usual, the willows
are pretty true prophets.
Caingey, grinning his coarse red face nearly double, and getting
his horse well by the head, rams in the spurs, and flourishes his
cutting whip high in air, with a "g — u — u — ur along ! do you
think I " — the "stole you'''' being lost under water just as Sponge
clears the brook a little lower down. Spareneck then pulls up.
When iSTimrod had Dick Christian under water in the Whissen-
dine in his Leicestershire run, and some one more humane than
the rest of the field observed, as they rode on,
"But he'll be drowned."
*' Shouldn't wonder," exclaimed another.
" But the jKice," Nimrod added, " was too good to inquire"
IIP. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 51
Such, however, was not the case with our watering-place cock,
Mr. Sponge. Independently of the absurdity of a man risking his
neck for the sake of picking up a bunch of red herrings, Mr.
Sponge, having beat everybody, could afford a little humanity,
more especially as he rode his horse on sale, and there was now no
one left to witness the further prowess of the steed. Accordingly,
ho availed himself of a heavy, newly-ploughed fallow, upon which
he landed as he cleared the brook, for pulling up, and returned
just as Mr. Spareneck, assisted by one of the whips, succeeded in
landing Caingey on the taking-off side. Caingey was not a pretty
boy at the best of times — none but the most partial parents could
think him one— and his clumsy-featured, short, compressed face,
and thick, lumpy figure, were anything but improved by a sort
of pea-green net-work of water-weeds with which he arose from
his bath. He was uncommonly well soaked, and had to be held
up by the heels to let the water run out of his boots, pockets and
clothes. In this undignified position he was found by Mr. Waffles
and such of the field as had ridden the line.
" Why, Caingey, old boy ! you look like a boiled porpoise with
parsley sauce ! " exclaimed Mr. Waffles, pulling up where the
unfortunate youth was sputtering and getting emptied like a jug.
" Confound it ! " added he, as the water came gurgling out of his
mouth, "but you must have drunk the brook dry."
Caingey would have censured his inhumanity, but knowing the
imprudence of quarrelling with his bread and butter, and also
aware of the laughable, drowned-rat figure he must then be cutting,
he thought it best to laugh, and take his change out of Mr.
Waffles another time. According, he chuckled and laughed too,
though his jaws nearly refused their office, and kindly transferred
the blame of the accident from the horse to himself.
" He didn't put on steam enough," he said.
Meanwhile, old Tom, who had gone on with the hounds, having
availed himself of a well-known bridge, a little above where
Thornton went in, for getting over the brook, and having allowed
a sufficient time to elapse for the proper completion of the farce,
was now seen rounding the opposite hill, with his hounds clustered
about his horse, with his mind conning over one of those
imaginary runs that experienced huntsmen know so well how to
tell, when there is no one to contradict them.
Having quartered his ground to get at his old friend the bridge
again, he just trotted up with well-assumed gaiety as Caingey
Thornton spluttered the last piece of green weedout from between
his great thick lips.
"Well, Tom!" exclaimed Mr. Waffles, "what have you done
with him ? "
" Killed him, sir" replied Tom, wTith a slight touch of his cap,
e 2
52 JlTi?. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUB.
as though "killing" was a matter of every-day occurrence with
them.
"Have you, indeed!" exclaimed Mr. Waffles, adopting the lie
with avidity.
" Yes, sir," said Tom, gravely; "he was nearly heat afore he
got to the brook. Indeed, I thought Vanquisher would have had
him in it ; but, however, he got through, and the scent failed on
the fallow, which gave him a chance ; but I held them on to the-
hedgerow beyond, where they hit it off like wildfire, and they
never stopped again till they tumbled him over at the back of Mr.
Plummey's farm-buildings, at Shapwick. I've got his brush,'*
added Tom, producing a much tattered one from his pocket, " if
you'd like to have it ? "
"Thank you, no — yes— no," replied "Waffles, not wanting to be
bothered with it; "yet stay," continued he, as his eye caught
Mr. Sponge, who was still on foot beside his vanquished friend ;
"' give it to Mr. What-de-ye-call-'em," added he, nodding towards-
our hero.
" Sponge" observed Tom, in an undertone, giving the brush to
his master.
" Mr. Sponge, will you do me the favour to accept the brush ? "
asked Mr. Waffles, advancing with it towards him ; adding, " I am
sorry this unlucky bather should have prevented your seeing the
end."
Mr. Sponge was a pretty good judge of brushes, and not a bad
one of camphire ; but if this one had smelt twice as strong as it
did — indeed, if it had dropped to pieces in his hand, or the moths-
had flown up in his face, he would have pocketed it, seeing it paved
the way to wThat he wanted — an introduction.
" Fin very much obliged, I'm sure," observed he, advancing to-
take it — " very much obliged, indeed ; been an extremely good
run, and fast."
"Very fair — very fair," observed Mr. Waffles, as though it were
nothing in their way ; seven miles in twenty minutes, I suppose,,
or something of that sort."
" CW-and-twenty," interposed Tom, with a laudable anxiety for
accuracy.
"Ah! one-and-twenty," rejoined Mr. Waffles. "I thought it
would be somewhere thereabouts. Well, I suppose we've all had
enough," added he ; " may as well go home and have some
luncheon, and then a game at billiards, or rackets, or something.
How's the old water-rat ? " added he, turning to Thornton, who
was now busy emptying his cap and mopping the velvet.
The water-rat was as well as could be expected, but did not quite
iike the new aspect of affairs. He saw that Mr. Sponge was a
first-rate horseman, and also knew that nothing ingratiated one
ME. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR. :>:}
man with another so much as skill and boldness in the field. It
was by that means, indeed, that he had established himself in Mr.
Waffles' good graces — an ingratiation that had been pretty service-
able to him, both in the way of meat, drink, mounting, and
money. Had Mr. Sponge been, like himself, a needy, penniless
adventurer, Caingey would have tried to have kept him out by
some of those plausible, admonitory hints, that poverty makes men
so obnoxious to ; but in the case of a rich, flourishing individual,
with such an astonishing stud as Leather made him out to have,
it was clearly Caingey's policy to knock under and be subservient
to Mr. Sponge also. Caingey, we should observe, was a bold,
reckless rider, never seeming to care for his neck, but he was no
match for Mr. Sponge, who had both skill and courage.
Caingey being at length cleansed from his weeds, wiped from his
mud, and made as comfortable as possible under the circumstances,
was now hoisted on to the renowned steeple-chase horse again,
who had scrambled out of the brook on the taking-off side, and,
after meandering the banks for a certain distance, had been caught
by the bridle in the branch of a willow — Caingey, we say, being
again mounted, Mr. Sponge also, without hindrance from the
resolute brown horse, the first whip put himself a little in advance,
while old Tom followed with the hounds, and the second whip
mingled with the now increasing field, it being generally under-
stood (by the uninitiated, at least) that hounds have no business
to go home so long as any gentleman is inclined for a scurrey, no
matter whether he has joined early or late. Mr. Waffles, on the
contrary, was very easily satisfied, and never took the shine off a
run with a kill by risking a subsequent defeat. Old Tom, though
keen when others were keen, was not indifferent to his comforts,
and soon came into the way of thinking that it was just as well to
get home to his mutton-chops at two or three o'clock, as to
be groping his way about bottomless bye-roads on dark winter
nights.
As he retraced his steps homeward, and overtook the scattered
field of the morning, his talent for invention, or rather stretching,
was again called into requisition.
"What have you done with him, Tom ? " asked Major Bouncer,
eagerly bringing his sturdy collar-marked cob alongside of our
huntsman.
" Killed him, sir," replied Tom, with the slightest possible touch
of the cap. (Bouncer was no tip.)
"Indeed!" exclaimed Bouncer, gaily, with that sort of sham-
satisfaction that most people express about things that can't
concern them in the least. " Indeed ! I'm deuced glad of that !
Where did you kill him ? "
"At the back of Mr. Plummey's farm-buildings, at Shapwick,''
54 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
replied Tom ; adding, " but, my word, he led us a dance afore -we
got there — up to Ditchington,down to Somerby, round by Temple
Bell Wood, cross Goosegreen Common, then away for Stubbington
Brooms, skirtin' Sanderwick Plantatious, but scarce goin' into 'em,
then by the rouud hill at Camerton, leavin' great Heatherton to
the right, and so straight on to Shapwick, where we killed, with
every hound up — "
" God bless me ! " exclaimed Bouncer, apparently lost in admira-
tion, though he scarcely knew the country ; " God bless me ! '*
repeated he, " what a run ! The finest run that ever was seen."
" Nine miles in twenty-five minutes," replied Tom, tacking on
a little both for time and distance.
" B-o-y Jove ! " exclaimed the major.
Having shaken hands with and congratulated Mr. "Waffles most
eagerly and earnestly, the major hurried of to tell as much as he
could remember to the first person he met, just as the cheese-
bearer at a christening looks out for some one to give the cheese
to. The cheese- getter on this occasion was Doctor Lotion, who
was going to visit old Jackey Thompson, of Woolleybum. Jackcy
being then in a somewhat precarious state of health, and tolerably
advanced in life, without any very self-evident heir, was obnoxious
to the attentions of three distinct litters of cousins, some one or
other of whom was constantly "baying him." Lotion, though a
sapient man, and somewhat grinding in his practice, did not
profess to grind old people young again, and feeling he could do
very little for the body corporate, directed his attention to amusing
Jackey \s mind, and anything in the shape of gossip was exti*emely
acceptable to the doctor to retail to his patient. Moreover, Jackey
had been a bit of a sportsman, and was always extremely happy to
see the hounds — on anybody's land bid his oivn.
So Lotion got primed with the story, and having gone through
the usual routine of asking his patient how he was, how he had
slept, looking at his tongue, and reporting on the weather, when
the old posing question, " What's the news ? " was put, Lotion
replied, as he too often had to reply, for he was a very slow hand
at picking up information.
" Nothin' particklar, I think, sir ; " adding, in an off-hand sort
of way, " you've heard cf the greet run, I s'pose, sir ? "
" Great run ! " exclaimed the octogenarian, as if it was a matter
of the most vital importance to him ; " great run, sir ; no, sir, not
a ivordV
The doctor then retailed it.
Old Jackey got possessed of this one idea — he thought of
nothing else. Whoever came, he out with it, chapter and verse,
with occasional variations. He told it to all the " cousins in
waiting ; " Jackey Thompson, of Carrington Ford ; Jackey
MP. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR. 55
Thompson, of Hounclesley ; Jackcy Thompson, of the ]\Iill ; and
all the Bobs, Bills, Sams, Harries, and Peters, composing the
respective litters ; — forgetting where he got it from, he nearly told
it back to Lotion himself. We sometimes see old people affected
this way — far more enthusiastic on a subject than young ones.
Few dread the aspect of affairs so much as those who have little
chance of seeing how they go.
But to the run. The cousins reproduced the story according to
their respective powers of exaggeration. One tacked on two miles,
another ten, and so it went on and on, till it reached the ears of the
great Mr. Seedeyman, the mighty we of the country, as he sat in
his den penning his "stunners" for his market-day Mercury. It
had then distanced the great sea-serpent itself in length, having
extended over thirty-three miles of country, which Mr. Seedeyman
reported to have been run in one hour and forty minutes.
Pretty good going, we should say.
CHAPTER XI.
THE FEELER.
Bag- fox-hunts, be they ever so good, are but unsatisfactory
things ; drag runs are, beyond all measure, unsatisfactory. After
the best-managed bag fox-hunt, there is always a sort of suppressed
joy, a deadly liveliness in the field. Those in the secret are afraid
of praising it too much, lest the secret should ooze out, and strangers
suppose that all their great runs are with bag foxes, while the mere
retaking of an animal that one has had in hand before is not cal-
culated to arouse any very pleasurable emotions. Nobody ever
goes frantic at seeing an old donkey of a deer handed back into
his carriage after a canter.
Our friends on this occasion soon exhausted what they had to
say on the subject.
" That's a nice horse of yours," observed Mr. "Waffles to Mr.
Sponge, as the latter, on the strength of the musty brush, now rode
alongside the master of the hounds.
k< I think he is," replied Sponge, rubbing some of the now dried
sweat from his shoulder and neck ; " I think he is ; I like him a
good deal better to-day than I did the first time I rode him."
""What, he's a new one, is he ? " asked Mr. "Waffles, taking a
scented cigar from his mouth, and giving a steady sidelong stare
at the horse.
" Bought him in Leicestershire," replied Sponge. " He belonged
W MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
to Lord Bullfrog, who didn't think him exactly up to his
weight."
"Up to his weight!" exclaimed Mr. Caingcy Thornton, who
had now ridden up on the other side of his great patron, " why,
'he must he another Daniel Lambert."
" Rather so," replied Mr. Sponge ; "rides nineteen stun."
"What a monster ! " exclaimed Thornton, who was of the pocket
•order.
" I thought he didn't go fast enough at his fences the first time
I rode him," observed Mr. Sponge, drawing the curb slightly so as
to show the horse's fine arched neck to advantage ; " but he went
quick enough to-day, in all conscience," added he.
" He did that" observed Mr. Thornton, now bent on a toadying
match. " I never saw a finer lepper."
" He flew many feet beyond the brook," observed Mr. Spareneck,
who, thinking discretion was the better part of valour, had pulled
up on seeing his comrade Thornton blobbing about in the middle
of it, and therefore was qualified to speak to the fact.
So they went on talking about the horse, and his points, and his
speed, and his action, very likely as much for want of something to
say, or to keep off the subject of the run, as from any real admira-
tion of the animal.
The true way to make a man take a fancy to a horse is to make
believe that you don't want to sell him — at all events, that you are
•easy about selling. Mr. Sponge had played this game so very
often, that it came quite natural to him. He knew exactly how
far to go, and having expressed his previous objection to the
horse, he now most handsomely made the amende honorable by
patting him on the neck, and declaring that he really thought he
should keep him.
It is said that every man has his weak or " do-able " point, if the
sharp ones can but discover it. This observation does not refer,
we believe, to men with an innocent penchant for play, or the
turf, or for buying pictures, or for collecting china, or for driving
coaches and four, all of which tastes proclaim themselves sooner or
later, but means that the most knowing, the most cautious, and
the most careful, are all to be come over, somehow or another.
There are few things more surprising in this remarkable world
than the magnificent way people talk about money, or the mean-
nesses they will resort to in order to get a little. We hear fellows
flashing and talking in hundreds and thousands, who will do
almost anything for a five-pound note. We have known men
pretending to hunt countries at their own expense, and yet actually
" living out of the hounds." Next to the accomplishment of that —
apparently almost impossible feat — comes the dexterity required
for living by horse-dealing. <■
ME. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUll. 57
A little lower down in the scale comes the income derived from
the profession of a "go-between "—the gentleman who can buy
the horse cheaper than you can. This was Caingey Thornton's
trade. He was always lurking about people's stables talking to
grooms and worming out secrets — whose horse had a cough, whose
was a wind-sucker, whose was lame after hunting, and so on — and
had a price current of every horse in the place — knew what had
been given, what the owners asked, and had a pretty good guess
what they would take.
Waffles would have been an invaluable customer to Thornton
if the former's groom, Mr. Figg, had not been rather too hard with
his "reg'lars." He insisted on Caingey dividing whatever he got
out of his master with him. This reduced profits considerably ;
but still, as it was a profession that did not require any capital to
set up with, Thornton could afford to be liberal, having only to
tack on to one end to cut off at the other.
After the opening Sponge gave as they rode home with the
hounds, Thornton had no difficulty in sounding him on the
subject.
" You'll not think me impertinent, I hope," observed Caingey,
in his most deferential style, to our hero, when they met at the
News'-room the next day — "you'll not think me impertinent, I
hope ; but I think you said as we rode home, yesterday, that you
didn't altogether like the brown horse you were on ? "
" Did I? " replied Mr. Sponge, with apparent surprise ; " I think
you must have misunderstood me."
"AVhy, no ; it wasn't exactly that," rejoined Mr. Thornton,
" but you said you liked him better than you did, I think ? "
"Ah! I believe I did say something of the sort," replied
Sponge, casually — "I believe I did say something of the sort ; but
he carried me so well that I thought better of him. The fact
was," continued Mr. Sponge, confidentially, "I thought him rather
too light-mouthed; I like a horse that bears more on the hand."
" Indeed !" observed Mr. Thornton ; " most people think a light
mouth a recommendation."
" I know they do," replied Mr. Sponge, "I know they do ; but
I like a horse that requires a little riding. Now this is too
much of a made horse — too much of what I call an old. man's
horse, for me. Bullfrog, whom I bought him of, is very fat —
eats a great deal of venison and turtle — all sorts of good things,
in fact — and can't stand much tewing in the saddle ; now,
I rather like to feel that I am on a horse, and not in an arm-
chair."
"He's a fine horse," observed Mr. Thornton.
" So he ought," replied Mr. Sponge ; " I gave a hatful of
money for him — two hundred and fifty golden sovereigns, and.
58 MR. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR.
not a guinea back. Bullfrog's the biggest screw I ever dealt
with."
That latter observation was highly encouraging to Thornton.
It showed that Mr. Sponge was not one of your tight-laced dons,
who take offence at the mere mention of "drawbacks," but,
on the contrary, favoured the supposition that he would do the
" genteel," should he happen to be a seller.
"Well, if you should feel disposed to part with him, perhaps
you will have the kindness to let me know," observed Mr.
Thornton ; adding, " he's not for myself, of course, but I think I
know a man he would suit, and who would be inclined to give a
good price for him."
" I will," replied Mr. Sponge ; " I will," repeated he ; adding,
" if I ivere to sell him, I wouldn't take a farthing under three
'underd for him — three 'underd guineas, mind, notpimds"
" That's a vast sum of money," observed Mr. Thornton.
"Not a bit on't," replied Mr. Sponge. " He's worth it all, and
a great deal more. Indeed, I haven't said, mind that, I'll take
that for him ; all I've said is, that I wouldn't take less."
" Just so," replied Mr. Thornton.
"He's a horse of high character," observed Mr. Sponge.
" Indeed, he has no business out of Leicestershire ; and I don't
know what set my fool of a groom to bring him here."
" Well, I'll see if I can coax my friend into giving what you
say," observed Mr. Thornton.
"Nay, never mind coaxing," replied Mr. Sponge, with the
utmost indifference ; "never mind coaxing; if he's not anxious,
my name's ' easy.' Only mind ye, if I ride him again, and he
carries me as he did yesterday, I shall clap on another fifty. A
horse of that figure can't be dear at any price," added he. " Put
him in a steeple-chase, and you'd get your money back in ten
minutes, and a bagful to boot."
" True," observed Mr. Thornton, treasuring that fact up as an
additional inducement to use to his friend.
So the amiable gentlemen parted.
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
59
DECORATED WITH A SKY-BLUE VIS1TK.
CHAPTER XII.
THE DEAL, AND THE DISASTER.
IF people are inclined
to deal, bargains can
very soon be struck
at idle watering-
places, where any-
thing in the shape
cf occupation is a
godsend, and bar-
gainers know where
to find each other in
a minute. Every-
body knows where
everybody is.
" Have you seen
Jack Sprat'? "
"Oh, yes; he's just
gone into Muddle's
Bazaar with Miss Flouncey, looking uncommon sweet." Or —
" Can you tell me where I shall find Mr. Slowman ? "
Answer. — "You'll find him at his lodgings, No. 15, Belvidere
Terrace, till a quarter before seven. He's gone home to dress, to
dine with Major and Mrs. Holdsworthy, at Grunton Villa, for I
heard him order Jenkins's fly at that time."
Caingey Thornton knew exactly when he would find Mr. Waffles
at Miss Lollypop's, the confectioner, eating ices and making love
to that very interesting, much-courted young lady. True to his
time, there was Waffles, eating and eyeing the cherry-coloured
ribbons, floating in graceful curls along with her raven-coloured
ringlets, down Miss Lollypop's nice fresh plump cheeks.
After expatiating on the great merits of the horse, and the
certainty of getting all the money back by steeple-chasing him in
the spring, and stating his conviction that Mr. Sponge would not
take any part of the purchase-money in pictures or jewellery, or
anything of that sort, Mr. Waffles gave his consent to deal, on the
terms the following conversation shows.
" My friend will give you your price, if you wouldn't mind
taking his cheque and keeping it for a fewr months till he's into
funds," observed Mr. Thornton, who now sought Mr. Sponge out
at the billiard-room.
CO ME. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
"Why," observed Mr. Sponge, thoughtfully, "you know horses
are always ready money."
"True," replied Thornton ; "at least that's the theory of the
thing ; only my friend is rather peculiarly situated at present."
" I suppose Mr. Waffles is your man ? " observed Mr. Sponge,
rightly judging that there couldn't be two such flats in the place.
" Just so," said Mr. Thornton.
"I'd rather take his 'stiff' than his cheque," observed Mr.
Sponge, after a pause. " I could get a bit of stiff clone, but a
cheque, you see — especially a post-dated one — is always objected
to."
" Well, I dare say that will make no difference," observed Mr.
Thornton, "'stiff,' if you prefer it — say three months ; or perhaps
you'll give us four ? "
"Three's long enough, in all conscience," replied Mr. Sponge,
with a shake of the head ; adding, " Bullfrog made me pay down
on the nail."
"Well, so be it, then," assented Mr. Thornton ; "you draw at
three months, and Mr. Waffles will accept, payable at Coutts's."
After so much liberality, Mr. Caingey expected that Mr. Sponge
would have hinted at something handsome for him ; but all Sponge
said was, " So be it," too, as he walked away to buy a bill-stamp.
Mr. Waffles was more considerate, and promised him the first
mount on his new purchase, though Caingey would rather have
had a ten, or even a five-pound note.
Towards the hour of ten on that eventful day, numerous
gaitered, trousered, and jacketed grooms began to ride up aud
down the High-street, most of them with their stirrups crossed
negligently on the pommels of the saddles, to indicate that their
masters were going to ride the horses, and not them. The street
grew lively, not so much with people going to hunt, as with people
coming to see those who were. Tattered Hibernians, with rags
on their backs and jokes on their lips ; young English chevaliers
d'industrie, with their hands ready to dive into anybody's pockets
but their own ; stablemen out of place, servants loitering on their
errands, striplings helping them, ladies' -maids "with novels or
three-corner'd notes, and a good crop of beggars.
" What, Spareneck, do you ride the grey to-day ? I thought
you'd done Gooseman out of a mount," observed Ensign Downley,
as a line of scarlet-coated youths hung over the balcony of the
Imperial Hotel, after breakfast and before mounting for the day.
b'pcreneclc. — "No, that's for Tuesday. He wouldn't stand one
to-day. What do you ride ? "
Doivriley. — " Oh, I've a hack, one of Screwman's, Perpetual
Motion they call him, because he never gets any rest. That's him,
I believe, with the lofty-actioned hind-legs," added he, pointing
3111. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. CI
to a weedy string-halty bay passing below, high in bone and low-
in flesh.
" Who's o' the gaudy chestnut ? " ashed Caingey Thornton,
who now appeared, wiping his fat lips after his second glass of can
de vci.
" That's Mr. Sponge's," replied Spareneck, in a low tone, know-
ing how soon a man catches his own name.
" A deuced fine horse he is, too," observed Caingey, in a louder
key ; adding, " Sponge has the finest lot of horses of any man in
England — in the world, I may say."
Mr. Sponge himself now rose from the breakfast table, and was
speedily followed by Mr. Waffles and the rest of the party, some
bearing sofa-pillows and cushions to place on the balustrades, to
loll at their ease, in imitation of the Coventry Club swells in
Piccadilly. Then our friends smoked their cigars, reviewed the
cavalry, and criticised the ladies who passed below in the flys on
their way to the meet.
" Come, old Bolter ! " exclaimed one, " here's Miss Bussington
coming to look after you — got her mamma with her, too — so you
may as well knock under at once, for she's determined to have you."
" A devil of a woman the old un is, too," observed Ensign
Downley ; "she nearly frightened Jack Simpers of ours into fits,
by asking what he meant after dancing three dances with her
daughter one night."
"My word, but Miss Jumpheavy must expect to do some
execution to-day with that fine floating feather and her crimson
satin dress and ermine," observed Mr. Waffles, as that estimable
lady drove past in her Victoria phaeton. "She looks like the
Queen of Sheba herself. But come, I suppose," he added, taking a
most diminutive Geneva watch out of his waistcoat-pocket, " we
should be going. See ! there's your nag kicking up a shindy," he-
said to Caingey Thornton, as the redoubtable brown was led down
the street by a jean-jacketed groom, kicking and lashing out at
everything he came near.
" I'll kick him," observed Thornton, retiring from the balcony
to the brandy-bottle, and helping himself to a pretty good-sized
glass. He then extricated his large cutting whip from the
confusion of whips with which it was mixed, and clonk, clonk,
clonked down stairs to the door.
" Multum in Parvo " stopped the doorway, across whose
shoulder Leather passed the following hints, in a low tone of
voice, to Mr. Sponge, as the latter stood drawing on his dog-skin
gloves, the observed, as he flattered himself, of all observers.
"Mind, now," said Leather, "this oss as a will of his own;
though he seems so quiet like, he's not always to be depended on -y
so be on the look-out for squalls."
C2 ME. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
Sponge, having had a glass of brandy, just mounted with the
air of a man thoroughly at home with his horse, and drawing the
rein, with a slight feel of the spur, passed on from the door to
make way for the redoubtable Hercules. Hercules was evidently
not in a good- hum our. His ears were laid back, and the rolling
white eye showed mischief. Sponge saw all this, and turned
to see whether Thornton's clumsy, wash-ball seat, would be able
to control the fractious spirit of the horse.
" Whoay ! " roared Thornton, as his first dive at the stirrup
missed, and was answered by a hearty kick out from the horse,
the " whoay " being given in a very different tone to the gentle,
•coaxing style of Mr. Buckram and his men. Had it not been for
the brandy within and the lookers-on without, there is no saying
but Caingey would have declined the horse's further acquaintance.
As it was, he quickly repeated his attempt at the stirrup with the
same sort of domineering " whoay" adding, as he landed in the
saddle and snatched at the reins, " Do you think I stole you ? "
Whatever the horse's opinion might be on that point, he didn't
seem to care to express it, for finding kicking alone wouldn't do,
he immediately commenced rearing too, and by a desperate plunge,
broke away from the groom, before Thornton had either got him
by the head or his feet in the stirrups. Three most desperate
bounds he gave, rising at the bit as though he would come back
over if the hold was not relaxed, and the fourth effort bringing
him to the opposite kerb-stone, he up again with such a bound
and impetus that he crashed right through Messrs. Frippery and
Flummery's fine plate-glass window, to the terror and astonishment
of their elegant young counter-skippers, who were busy arranging
their ribbons and finery for the day. Eight through the window
Hercules went, swiching through book muslins and bareges as he
would through a bullfinch, and attempting to make his exit by a
large plate-glass mirror against the wall of the cloak-room beyond,
which he clashed all to pieces with his head. "Worse remains to be
told. "Multum in Parvo," seeing his old comrade's hind-quarters
disappearing through the window, just took the bit between his
teeth, and followed, in spite of Mr. Sponge's every effort to turn
him ; and when at length he got him hauled round, the horse was
found to have decorated himself with a sky-blue visite trimmed
with Honiton lace, which he wore like a charger on his way to the
Crusades, or a steed bearing a knight to the Eglinton tournament.
Quick as it happened, and soon as it was over, all Laverick
Wells seemed to have congregated in the street as our heroes rode
•out of the folding glass-doors.
MB. SPONGE'S SPOBTING TUUB.
63
CHAPTER XIII.
AX OLD FRIEND.
PORTRAIT OF LORD EULLFROO. FORMERLY OWNER OF HERCULES.
About a fortnight after the above catastrophe, and as the
recollection of it was nearly effaced by Miss Jumpheavy's abduc-
tion of Ensign Downley, our friend, Mr. Waffles, on visiting his
stud at the four o'clock stable -hour, found a most respectable,
middle-aged, rosy-gilled, better -sort -of -farmer -looking man,
straddling his tight drab-trousered legs, with a twisted ash plant
04 ME. SPONGE'S SFOETING TOUE.
propping his chin, behind the redoubtable Hercules. He had a
bran-new hat on, a velvet-collared blue coat with metal buttons,
that anywhere bat in the searching glare and contrast of London
might have passed for a spic-and-span new one ; a small, striped,
step-collared toilanette vest ; and the aforesaid drab trousers, in
the right-hand pocket of which his disengaged hand kept fishing
up and slipping down an avalanche of silver, which made a plea-
sant musical accompaniment to his monetary conversation. On
seeing Mr. Waffles, the stranger touched his hat, and appeared to
be about to retire, when Mr. Figg, the stud-groom, thus addressed
his master : —
"This be Mr. Buckram, sir, of London, sir ; says he knows our
brown 'orse, sir."
" Ah, indeed," observed Mr. Waffles, taking a cigar from his
mouth ; " knows no good of him, I should think. What part of
London do you live in, Mr. Buckram ? " asked he.
"Why, I doesn't exactly live in London, my lord — that's to say,
sir — a little way out of it, you know — have a little hindependence-
of my own, you understand."
" Hang it, how should I understand anything of the sort — never
set eyes on you before," replied Mr. Waffles.
The half-crowns now began to descend singly in the pocket,
keeping up a protracted jingle, like the notes of a lazy, undecided
musical snuff-box. By the time the last had dropped, Mr. Buckram
had collected himself sufficiently to resume.
Taking the ash-plant away from his mouth, with which he had
been barricading his lips, he observed,
" I know'd that oss when Lord Bullfrog had him," nodding his
head at our old friend as he spoke.
" The deuce you did ! " observed Mr. Waffles ; "where was that ? "
"In Leicestersheer," replied Mr. Buckram. "I have a haunt as-
lives at Mount Sorrel ; she has a little hindependence of her own,
and I goes down 'casionally to see her — in fact, I believes I'm her
hare. Well, I was down there just at the beginnin' of the season,
the 'ounds met at Kirby Gate — a mile or two to the south, you
know, on the Leicester road — it was the fust day of the season, in
fact — and there was a great crowd, and I was one ; and havin' a
heye for an oss, I was struck with this one, you understand, bein',
as I thought, a 'ticklar nice 'un. Lord Bullfrog's man was a ridin'
of him, and he kept him outside the crowd, showin' off his pints,.
and passin' him backwards and forwards under people's noses, to
'tract the notish of the nobs— parsecutm, what I call — and I see'd
Mr. Sponge struck — I've known Mr. Sponge many years, and a
'ticklar nice gent he is — well, Mr. Sponge pulled hup, and said to
the grum, ' Who's o' that oss ? ' ' My Lor' Bullfrog's, sir,' said
the man. * He's a deuced nice 'un,' observed Mr. Sponge, thinking
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 65
as he was a lord's, he might praise 'im, seein', in all probability, he
weren't for sale. ' He is that? said the gram, patting him on the
neck, as though he were special fond on him. ' Is my lord out ? '
asked Mr. Sponge. ' No, sir ; he's not corned down yet,' replied
the man, ' nor do I know when he will come. He's been down at
Bath for some time, 'sociatin' with the aldermen o' Bristol, and
has thrown up a vast o' bad flesh — two stun' sin' last season — and
he's afeared this oss won't be able to carry him, and so he writ to
me to take 'im out to-day to show 'im. ' He'd carry me, I think,'
said Mr. Sponge, making hup his mind on the moment, jist as he
makes hup his mind to ride at a fence — not that I think it's a good
plan for a gent to show that he's sweet on an oss, for they're sure
to make him pay for it. Howsomever, that's nouther here nor
there. Well, jist as Mr. Sponge said this, Sir Richard driv' hup.
and harm' got his oss, away we trotted to the goss jist below, and
the next thing I see'd was Mr. Sponge leadin' the 'ole field on
this werry nag. Well, I heard no more till I got to Melton, for I
didn't go to my haunt's at Mount Sorrel that night, and I saw
little of the run, for my oss was rather puffy, livin' principally on
chaff, bran mashes, Swedes, and soft food ; and when I got to
Melton, I heard 'ow Mr. Sponge had bought this oss," Mr. Buckram
nodding his head at the horse as he spoke, " and 'ow that he'd
given the matter o' two 'under' d — or I'm not sure it weren't two
'under'd-and-fifty guineas for 'im, and — "
" Well," interrupted Mr. Waffles, tired of his verbosity, " and
what did they say about the horse ? "
"Why," continued Mr. Buckram, thoughtfully, propping his
■chin up with his stick, and drawing all the half-crowns up to the
top of his pocket again, " the fust 'spicious thing I heard was Sir
Digby Snaffle's grum, Sam, sayin' to Captain Screwley's bat-man
grum, jist afore the George Inn door,
" ' Well, Jack, Tommy's sold the brown oss ! '
" ' N — o — o — r ! ' exclaimed Jack, starin' 'is eyes out, as if it
were unpossible.
" ' He 'as, though, ' said Sam.
" ' Well, then, I 'ope the gemman's fond o' walkin',' exclaimed
Jack, bustin' out a laughin' and runnin' on.
" This rayther set me a thinkin'," continued Mr. Buckram,
dropping a second half-crown, which jinked against the nest-eirg
one left at the bottom, " and fearin' that Mr. Sponge had fallen
'mong the Philistines — which I was werry concerned about, for
he's a real nice gent, but thoughtless, as many young gents are
who 'ave plenty of tin — I made it my business to inquire 'bout
this oss ; and if he is the oss that I saw in Leicestersheer, and I
'ave little doubt about it (dropping two consecutive half-crowns as
he spoke), though I've not seen him out, I — "
F
CG MP. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
"Ah ! well, 1 bought him of Mr. Sponge, who said he got him
from Lord Bullfrog," interrupted Mr. Waffles.
"Ah ! then he is the oss, in course," said Mr. Buckram, with a
sort of mournful chuck of the chin ; "he is the oss," repeated he ;
" well, then, he's a dangerous hanimal," added he, letting slip
three half-crowns.
" What does he do ? " asked Mr. Waffles.
" Do ! " repeated Mr. Buckram, " do ! he'll do for anybody."
" Indeed," responded Mr. Waffles ; adding, " how could Mr.
Sponge sell me such a brute ? "
"I doesn't mean to say, mind ye," observed Mr. Buckram,
drawing back three half-crowns, as though he had gone that much
too far, — " I doesn't mean to say, mind, that he's wot you call a
mistcched, runaway, rear-backwards-over-hanimal — but I mean to
say he's a difficultish oss to ride — himpetuous — and one that, if he
got the hupper 'and, would be werry likely to try and keep the
hupper 'and — you understand me ? " said he, eyeing Mr. Waffles
intently, and dropping four half-crowns as he spoke.
" I'm tellin' you nothin' but the truth," observed Mr. Buckram,
after a pause, adding, " in course it's nothiu' to me, only bein'
down 'ere on a visit to a friend, and 'earin' that the oss were 'ere,
I made bold to look in to see whether it was 'im or no. No of-
fence, I 'opes," added he, letting go the rest of the silver, and
taking the prop from under his chin, with an obeisance as if he
was about to be off.
"Oh, no offence at all," rejoined Mr. Waffles, "no offence —
rather the contrary. Indeed, I'm much obliged to you for telling
me what you have done. Just stop half a minute," added he,,
thinking he might as well try and get something more out of him.
While Mr. Waffles was considering his next question, Mr. Buckram
saved him the trouble of thinking by "leading the gallop" himself.
" I believe 'im to be a good oss, and I believe 'im to be a had
oss," observed Mr. Buckram, sententiously. " I believe that oss,
with a bold rider on his back, and well away with the 'ounds,
would beat most osses goin', but it's the start that's the difficulty
with him ; for if, on the other 'and he don't incline to go, all the
spurrin', and quiltin', and leatherin' in the world won't make 'im.
It'll be a mercy o' Providence if he don't cut out work for the
crowner some day."
" Hang the brute ! " exclaimed Mr. Waffles, in disgust ; "I've a
good mind to have his throat cut."
" Nay," replied Mr. Buckram, brightening up, and stirring the
silver round and round in his pocket like a whirlpool, "nay,"
replied he, " he's fit for summat better nor that."
''Not much, I think," replied Mr. Waffles, pouting with dis-
trust. He now stood silent for a few seconds.
ME. SPONGE'S SEOETING TOUE. 67
""Well, bub what did they mean by hoping Mr. Sponge was
fond of walking ? " at length asked he.
" Oh, vy," replied Mr. Buckram, gathering all the money up
again, " I believe it was this 'ere," beginning to drop them to half-
miuute time, and talking very slowly ; " the oss, I believe, got the
better of Lord Bullfrog one day, somewhere a little on this side of
Thrussinton — that, you know, is where Sir 'Any built his kennels
— between Mount Sorrel and Melton in fact — and havin' got his
Lordship off, who, I should tell you, is an uncommon fat 'un, he
wouldn't let him on again, and he 'ad to lead him the matter of I
don't know 'ow many miles ; " Mr. Buckram letting go the whole
balance of silver in a rush, as if to denote that it was no joke.
" The Irute ! " observed Mr. Waffles, in disgust, adding, " Well,
as you seem to have a pretty good opinion of him, suppose you
buy him ; I'll let you have him cheap."
" 'Ord bless you, my lord — that's to say, sir ! " exclaimed Buck-
ram, shrugging up his shoulders, and raising his eyebrows as high
as they would go, " he'd be of no use to me, none votsomever —
shouldn't know wot to do with him — never do for 'arness — besides,
I 'ave a werry good machiner as it is — at least, he sarves my turn,
and that's everything, you know. No, sir, no," continued he,
slowly and thoughtfully, dropping the silver to half-minute time ;
" no, sir, no ; if I might make free with a gen'leman o' your
helegance," continued he, after a pause, " I'd say, sell 'm to a post-
master or a buss-master, or some sich cattle as those, but I doesn't
think I'd put 'im into the 'ands of no gen'leman, that's to say if I
were you, at least," added he.
"Well, then, will you speculate on him yourself for the buss-
masters ? " asked Mr. Waffles, tired alike of the colloquy and the
quadruped.
"Oh, vy, as to that," replied Mr. Buckram, with an air of the
most perfect indifference, " vy, as to that — not bein' nouther a
post-master nor a buss-master — but 'aving, as I said before, a
little hindependence o' my own, vy, I couldn't in course give such
a bountiful price as if I could turn 'im to account at once ; but if
it would be any 'commodation to you," added he, working the
silver up into full cry, " I wouldn't mind givin' you the with
(worth) of 'im— say, deductin' expenses hup to town, and standin'
at livery afore I finds a customer — expenses hup to town," con-
tinued Mr. Buckram, muttering to himself in apparent calculation,
" standin' at livery — three-and-sixpencc a night, gram, and so on
— I wouldn't mind," continued he briskly, " givin' of you twenty
pund for 'im — if you'd throw me back a sov.," continued he,
seeing Mr. Waffles' brow didn't contract into the frown he expected
at having such a sum offered for his three hundred-guinea horse.
In the course of an hour, that wonderful invention of modern
f 2
63 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUP.
times, — the Electric Telegraph — conveyed the satisfactory words
"All right " to our friend Mr. Sponge, just as he was sitting down
to dinner in a certain sumptuously sanded coffee-room in Conduit
Street, who forthwith sealed and posted the following ready-
written letter : —
" Baxtam Hotel, Bond Street.
" Sir,
" I have been greatly surprised and hurt to hear that you have
thought fit to impeach my integrity, and insinuate that I had taken
you in ivith the brown horse. Such insinuations touch one in a
tender point — one's self-respect. The bargain, I may remind you,
was of your own seeking, and I told you at the time I hieio nothing
of the horse, having only ridden him once, and I also told you ivhere
I got him. To show how unjust and unworthy your insinuations
have been, I have now to inform you tJiat, having ascertained tlutt
Lord Bullfrog knew he was vicious, I insisted on his lordship
taking him back, and have only to add, that, on my receiving him
from you, I will return you your bill.
" I am, Sir, your obedient servant,
"II. Sr/OKGE.
" To W. Waffles, Esq., Imperial Hotel, Laverick 'Wells."
Mr. "Waffles was a good deal vexed and puzzled when he got
this letter. He had parted with the horse, who was gone no one
knew where, and Mr. Waffles felt that he had used a certain free-
dom of speech in speaking of the transaction. Mr. Sponge having
left Laverick Wells, had, perhaps, led him a little astray with his
tongue — slandering an absent man being generally thought a
pretty safe game ; it now seemed Mr. Waffles was all wrong, and
might have had his money back if he had not been in such a hurry
to part with the horse. Like a good many people, he thought he
had best eat up his words, which he did in the following
manner : —
" Imperial Hotel, Laverick Wells.
" Dear Mr. Spoxge,
" You are quite mistaken in supposing that I ever insinuated
anything against you with regard to the horse. I said he teas a
beast, and it seems Lord Bullfrog admits it. Hotvever, never mind
anything more about him, though L am equally obliged to you for
the trouble you have taken. The fact is, I liave parted ivith him.
" We are having capital sport ; never go out but we kill, some-
times a brace, sometimes a leash of foxes. Hoping you are recovered
from the effects of your ride through the window, and ivill soon rejoin
us, believe me, dear Mr. Sponge, « yours very sincerely,
" W. Waffles."
ME. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. CO
To which Mr. Sponge shortly after rejoined as follows : —
" Bantam Hotel, Bond Street.
"Dear Waffles,
" Tours to hand — / am glad to receive a disclaimer of any
unworthy imputations respecting the hrown horse. Such insinuations
are only for horse-dealers, not for men of high gentlemanly feeling.
" I am sorry to say ive have not got out of the horse as I hoped.
Lord Bullfrog, who is a most cantankerous fellow, insists upon
having him bade, according io the terms of my letter ; I must
therefore trouble you to hunt him up, and let us accommodate his
lordship with him again. If you ivill say where he is, I may very
likely know some one ivho can assist us in gelling him. You will
excuse this trouble, I hope, considering that it ivas to serve you that
I moved in the matter, and insisted on returning him to his lordship,
at a loss ofbOl. to myself, having only given 2bOl.for him.
" I remain, dear Waffles,
'* Yours sincerely,
"H. Sponge.
" To W. "Waffles, Esq., Imperial Hotel, Lavcrick Wells."'
" Layelick Wells.
" Dear Sf-oxge,
"I'm afraid Bullfrog ivill have to make himself happy without
his horse, for I hav'n't the slightest idea ivhere he is. I sold him
to a cockneyficd, country fied sort of a man, who said he had a small
' hindepenclence of his own ' — somewhere, I believe, about London.
He didn't give much for him, as you may suppose, when I tell you
he paid for him chiefly in silver. If I were you, I wouldn't
trouble myself about him.
" Yours very truly,
" W. Waffles.
"ToH. Sponge, Esq."
Our hero addressed Mr. Waffles again, in the course of a few
clays, as follows : —
"Dear Waffles,
" I am sorry to say Bullfrog won't be put off xviihout the horse.
He says I insisted on his taking him back, and now he insists on
having him. I have had his lawyer, Mr Chousam, of the great firm
of Chousam, Doem, and Co., of Throgmorton-strcet, at me, who says
his lordship will play old gooseberry ivith us {five don't return him
by Saturday. Fray put on all steam, and look him up.
" Yours in haste,
" To W. Waffles, Esq.'» " H. SPOXGE.
70 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TO UP.
Mr. Waffles did put on all steam, and so successfully that he ran
the horse to ground at our friend Mr. Buckram's. Though the
horse was in the box adjoining the house, Mr. Buckram declared
he had sold him to go to " Hireland ; " to what county he really
couldn't say, nor to what hunt ; all he knew was, the gentleman
said he was a " captin," and lived in a castle.
Mr. Waffles communicated the intelligence to Sponge, requesting
him to do the best he could for him, who reported what his "best"
was in the following letter : —
" Dear Waffles,
" My lawyer has seen Chousam, and deuced siiff he says lie
teas. It seems Bullfroy is indignant at being accused of a " do ; "
and having got me in the wrong box, by not being able to return the
horse as claimed, he meant to worlc me. At first Chousam icould
hear of nothing but ' I — a — w.' Bullfrog's ivounded honour could
only be salved that way. Gradually, however, tee diverged from
I — a — iv to £ — s. — d. ; and the i/pshol of it is, that he will advise
his lordship to lalce 2501. and be done with it. It's a bore ; but I
did it for the best, and shall be glad no?v to know your ivishcs on the
subject. Meanwhile, I remain,
" Yours, very truly,
" H. Sponge.
" To W. Waffles, Esq."
Formerly a remittance by post used to speak for itself. The
tender-fingered clerks could detect an enclosure, however skilfully
folded. Few people grudged double postage in those days. Now
one letter is so much like another, that nothing short of opening
them makes one any wiser. Mr. Sponge received Mr. Waffles'
answer from the hands of the waiter with the sort of feeling that it
was only the continuation of their correspondence. Judge, then,
of his delight, when a nice, clean, crisp promissory note, on a five-
shilling stamp, fell quivering to the floor. A few lines, expressive
of Mr. Waffles' gratitude for the trouble our hero had taken, and
hopes that it would not be inconvenient to take a note at two
months, accompanied it. At first Mr. Sponge was overjoyed. It
would set him up for the season. He thought how he'd spend it.
He had half a mind to go to Melton. There were no heiresses
there, or else he would. Leamington would do, only it was
rather expensive. Then he thought he might as well have done
Waffles a little more.
" Confound it !" exclaimed Sponge, "I don't do myself justice !
Fm too much of a gentleman ! I should have had five 'undcr'd —
such an ass as Waffles deserves to be done ! "
ME. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
CHAPTER XIV.
A NEW SCHEME.
Mil. SPONGE IN c.OiiD FEATHER.
Our friend Soapey was now in good feather ; be had got a large
price for his good-for-nothing horse, with a very handsome 1 tonus
for not getting him back, making him better off than he had been
for some time. Gentleman of his calibre are generally extremely
affluent in everything except cash. They have bills without end —
bills that nobody will touch, and book debts in abundance — book
debts entered with metallic pencils in curious little clasped pocket-
books, with such utter disregard of method that it would puzzle an
accountant to comb them into anything like shape.
It is true, what Mr. Sponge got from Mr. Waffles were bills —
but they were good bills, and of such reasonable date as the most
exacting of the Jew tribe would " do " for twenty per cent. Mr.
72 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
Sponge determined to keep the game alive, and getting Hercules
and Multum in Parvo together again, he added a showy piebald
hack, that Buckram had just got from some circus people, who had
not been able to train him to their work.
The question now was, where to manoeuvre this imposing stud —
a problem that Mr. Sponge quickly solved.
Among the many strangers who rushed into indiscriminate
friendship with our hero at Laverick Wells, was Mr. Jawleyford, of
Jawleyford Court, in shire. Jawleyford was a great humbug.
He was a fine, off-hand, open-hearted, cheery sort of fellow, who was
always delighted to see you, would start at the view, and stand
with open arms in the middle of the street, as though quite overjoyed
at the meeting. Though he never gave dinners, nor anything
where he was, he asked everybody, at least everybody who did give
them, to visit him at Jawleyford Court. If a man was fond of fish-
ing, he must come to Jawleyford Court, lie must, indeed; he would
take no refusal, he wouldn't leave him alone till he promised. He
would show him such fishing — no waters in the world to compare
with his. The Shannon and the Tweed were not to be spoken of
in the same day as his waters in the Swiftley.
Shooting, the same way. " By Jove ! are you a shooter ? Well,
I'm delighted to hear it. Well, now, we shall be at home all
September, and up to the middle of October, and you must just
come to us at your own time, and I will give you some of the
finest partridge and pheasant shooting you ever saw in your
life ; Norfolk can show nothing to what I can. Now, my good
fellow say the word ; do say you'll come, and then it will be a
settled thing, and I shall look forward to it with such pleasure ! "
He was equally magnanimous about hunting, though, like a
good many people who have " had their hunts," he pretended that
his day was over, though he was a most zealous promoter of the
sport. So he asked everybody who did hunt to come and see him ;
and Avhat Avith his hearty, affable manner, and the unlimited nature
of his invitations, he generally passed for a deuced hospitable,
good sort of fellow, and came in for no end of dinners and other
entertainments for his wife and daughters, of which he had two —
daughters, we mean, not wives. His time was about up at Laverick
Wells when Mr. Sponge arrived there ; nevertheless, during the
few days that remained to them, Mr. Jawleyford contrived to scrape
a pretty intimate acquaintance with a gentleman whose wealth was
reported to equal, if it did not exceed, that of Mr. Waffles himself.
The following was the closing scene between them : —
"Mr. Sponge," said he, getting our hero by both hands in
Culeyford's Billiard Room, and shaking them as though he could
not bear the idea of separation ; " my dear Mr. Sponge," added
he, " I grieve to say we're going to-morrow ; I had hoped to have
MP. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 73
stayed a little lonjrer, and to have enjoyed the pleasure of your most
agreeable society." (This was true ; he would have stayed, only
his banker wouldn't let him have any more money.) " But, how-
ever, I won't say adieu," continued he ; " no, I icorft say adieu I
I live, as you perhaps know, in one of the best hunting counties
in England — my Lord Scamperdale's — Scamperdale and I are
like brothers ; I can do whatever I like with him — he has, I may
say, the finest pack of hounds in the world ; his huntsman, Jack
Frosty face, I really believe, cannot be surpassed. Come, then, my
dear fellow," continued Mr. Jawleyford, increasing the grasp and
shake of the hands, and looking most earnestly in Sponge's
face, as if deprecating a refusal ; " come then, my dear fellow,
and see us ; we will do whatever we can to entertain and make
you comfortable. Scamperdale shall keep our side of the country
till you come ; there are capital stables at Lucksford, close to the
station, and you shall have a stall for your hack at Jawleyford, and
a man to look after him, if you like ; so now, don't say nay — your
time shall be ours — we shall be at home all the rest of the winter,
and I flatter myself, if you once come down, you will be inclined
to repeat your visit ; at least, I hope so."
There are two common sayings ; one, " that birds of a feather
flock together ; " the other, " that two of a trade never agree ; "
which often seem to us to contradict each other in the actual inter-
course of life. Humbugs certainly have the knack of drawing
together, and yet they are always excellent friends, and will
vouch for the goodness of each other in a way that few straight-
forward men think it worth their while to adopt with regard
to indifferent people. Indeed, humbugs are not always content
to defend their absent brother humbugs when they hear them
abused, but they will frequently lug each other in neck and crop,
apparently for no other purpose than that of proclaiming
what excellent fellows they are, and see if anybody will take up
the cudgels against them.
Mr. Sponge, albeit with a considerable cross of the humbug him-
self, and one who perfectly understood the usual worthlessness of
general invitations, was yet so taken with Mr. Jawleyford's hail-
fellow-well-met, earnest sort of manner, that, adopting the
convenient and familiar solution in such matters, that there is no
rule without an exception, concluded that Mr. Jawleyford teas
the exception, and really meant what he said.
Independently of the attractions offered by hunting, which were
both strong and cogent, we have said there were two young ladies,
to whom fame attached the enormous fortunes common in cases
where there is a large property and no sons. Still Sponge was a
wary bird, and his experience of the worthlessness of most general
invitations made him think it just possible that it might not suit
74 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
Mr. Jawleyford to receive him now, at the particular time lie
wanted to go ; so after duly considering the case, and also the
impressive nature of the invitation, so recently given, too, he deter-
mined not to give Jawleyford the chance of refusing him, but just
to say he was coming, and drop down upon him before he could
say "no." Accordingly, he penned the following epistle : —
" Bantam Hotel, Boxd-Street, Londox.
" Dear Jawleyford,
" / purpose being ivith you to-morrow, by the express train,
which I see, by Bradshaio, arrives at Lucksford a quarter to three.
I shall only bring two hunters and a hack, so perhaps you could
oblige me by taking them in for the short time I shall stay, as it
would not be convenient for me to separate them. Hoping to find
Mrs. Jawleyford and the young ladies well, I remain, dear sir,
" Tours very truly,
"H. Spoxge.
" To — Jawleyford, Esq., Jawleyford Court, Lucksford."
" Curse the fellow ! " exclaimed Jawleyford, nearly choking
himself with a fish bone, as he opened and read the foregoing at
breakfast. " Curse the fellow ! " he repeated, stamping the letter
under foot, as though he would crush it to atoms. "Whoever
saw such a piece of impudence as that ! "
" What's the matter, my dear ? " inquired Mrs. Jawleyford,
alarmed lest it was her dunning jeweller writing again.
" Hatter ! " shrieked Jawleyford, in a tone that sounded through
the thick wall of the room, and caused the hobbling old gardener
on the terrace to peep in at the heavy-mullioned window. "Matter! "
repeated he, as though he had got his coup cle grace ; " look
there," added he, handing over the letter.
" Oh, my dear," rejoined Mrs. Jawleyford, soothingly, as soon
as she saw it was not what she expected. " Oh, my dear, I'm sure
there's nothing to make you put yourself so much out of the way."
" No ! " roared Jawleyford, determined not to be done out of his
grievance. " No ! " repeated he ; " do you call that nothing ? "
"Why, nothing to make yourself unhappy about," replied
Mrs. Jawleyford, rather pleased than otherwise ; for she was glad
it was not from Rings, the jeweller, and, moreover, hated the
monotony of Jawleyford Court, and was glad of anything to relieve
it. If she had had her own way, she would have gadded about at
watering-places all the year round.
" Well," said Jawleyford, with a toss of the head and a shrug
of resignation, "you'll have me in gaol ; I see that."
" Nay, my dear J.," rejoined his wife, soothingly ; " I'm sure
you've plenty of money."
ME. JAWLEYFORD . . . ' ' WHAT A LANDLORD OUGHT TO BE.
[P. 75.
UP. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 75
" Have I ! " ejaculated Jawleyford. " Do you suppose, if I had.
I'd have left Laverick Wells without paying Miss Bustlehey, or
given a bill at three months for the house-rent ? "
"Well, but my dear, you've nothing to do but tell Mr. Screwcm-
tight to get you some money from the tenants."
" Money from the tenants ! " replied Mr. Jawleyford. " Screwem-
tight tells mc he can't get another farthing from any man on the
estate."
" Oh, pooh ! " said Mrs. Jawleyford ; "you're far too good to
them. I al ways say Screwemtight locks far more to their interest
than he docs to yours."
Jawleyford, we may observe, was one of the rather numerous
race of paper-booted, pen-and-ink landowners. He always dressed
in the country as he would in St. James's-street, and his communi-
cations with his tenantry were chiefly confined to dining with them
twice a year in the great entrance-hall, after Mr. Screwemtight
had cased them of their cash in the steward's-room. Then Mr.
Jawleyford would shine forth the very impersonification of what
a landlord ought to be. Dressed in the height of the fashion, as if by
his clothes to give the lie to his words, he would expatiate on the
delights of such meetings of equality ; declare that, next to those
spent with his family, the only really happy moments of his life
were those when he was surrounded by his tenantry ; he doatcd on
the manly character of the English farmer. Then he would advert
to the great antiquity of the Jawleyford family, many generations
of whom looked down upon them from the walls of the old hall ;
some on their war-steeds, some armed cap-a-pie, some in court-
dresses, some in Spanish ones, one in a white dress with gold brocade
breeches and a hat with an enormous plume, old Jawleyford (father
of the present one) in the Windsor uniform, and our friend him-
self, the. very prototype of what then stood before them. Indeed,
he had been painted in the act of addressing his hereditary chaw-
bacons in the hall in which the picture was suspended. There he
stood, with his bright auburn hair (now rather badger-pied, perhaps,
but still very passable by candle-light) — his bright auburn hair, we
say, swept boldly off his lofty forehead., his hazy grey eyes flashing
with the excitement of drink and animation, his left hand reposing
on the hip of his well-fitting black pantaloons, while the right
one, radiant with rings, and trimmed with upturned wristband,
sawed the air, as he rounded off the periods of the well-
accustomed saws.
Jawleyford, like a good many people, was very hospitable when
in full fig — two soups, two fishes, and the necessary concomitants;
but he would see any one far enough before he would give him a
dinner merely because he wanted one. That sort of ostentatious
banqueting has about brought country society in general to a
76 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
dead lock. People tire of the constant revision of plate, linen,
and china.
Mrs. Jawlcyford, on the other hand, was a very rough-and-
ready sort of woman, never put out of her way ; and though she
constantly preached the old doctrine that girls " are much better
single than married," she was always on the look-out for
opportunities of contradicting her assertions.
She was an Irish lady, with a pedigree almost as long as
Jawleyford's, but more compressible pride, and if she couldn't get
a duke, she would take a marquis or an earl, or even put up with
a rich commoner.
The perusal, therefore, of Sponge's letter, operated differently
upon her to what it did upon her husband, and though she would
have liked a little more time, perhaps, she did not care to take
him as they were. Jawleyford, however, resisted violently. It
would be most particularly inconvenient to him to receive
company at that time. If Mr. Sponge had gone through the
whole three hundred and sixty-five days in the year, he could
not have hit upon a more inconvenient one for him. Besides, he
had no idea of people writing in that sort of a way, saying they
were coming, without giving him the chance of saying no.
" Well, but my dear, I daresay you asked him," observed
Mrs. Jawleyford.
Jawleyford was silent, the scene in the billiard-room recurring
to his mind,
" I've often told you, my dear," continued Mrs. Jawleyford,
kindly, " that you shouldn't be so free with your invitations if
you don't want people to come ; things are very different now to
what they were in the old coaching and posting days, when it
took a day and a night and half the next day to get here, and I
don't know how much money besides. You might then invite
people with safety, but it is very different now, when they have
nothing to do but put themselves into the express-train and
whisk down in a few hours."
" Well, but confound him, I didn't ask his horses," exclaimed
Jawleyford ; " nor will I have them either," continued he, with a
jerk of the head, as he got up and rang the bell, as though
determined to put a stop to that at all events.
" Samuel," said he, to the dirty page of a boy who answered the
summons, " tell John Watson to go down to the Railway Tavern
directly, and desire them to get a three-stalled stable ready for a
gentleman's horses that are coming to-day — a gentleman of the
name of Sponge," added he, lest any one else should chance to
come and usurp them — " and tell John to meet the express train,
and tell the gentleman's groom where it is."
MB. SPONGE'S SPOBTIXG TOUB. 77
CHAPTER XV.
JAWLEYFORD COURT.
True to a minute, the hissing engine drew the swiftly-gliding
train beneath the elegant and costly station at Lucksford — an
edifice presenting a rare contrast to the wretched old red-tiled, five-
windowed house, called the Red Lion, where a brandy-faced
blacksmith of a landlord used to emerge from the adjoining
smithy, to take charge of any one who might arrive per coach for
that part of the country. Mr. Sponge was quickly on the plat-
form, seeing to the detachment of his horse-box.
Just as the cavalry was about got into marching order, up rode
John Watson, a ragamuffin-looking gamekeeper, in a green plush
coat, with a very tarnished laced hat, mounted on a very shaggy
white pony, whose hide seemed quite impervious to the visitations
of a heavily-knotted dogwhip, with which he kept saluting his
shoulders and sides.
''Please, sir," said he, riding up to Mr. Sponge, with a touch of
the old hat, " I've got you a capital three-stall stable at the Rail-
way Tavern, here," pointing to a newly-built brick house standing
on the rising ground.
" Oh ! but I'm going to Jawleyford Court," responded our
friend, thinking the man was the " tout" of the tavern.
" Mr. Jawleyford don't take in horses, sir," rejoined the man,
with another touch of the hat.
"He'll take in mine,''' observed Mr. Sponge, with an air of
authority.
"Oh, I beg pardon, sir," replied the keeper, thinking he had
made a mistake ; " it was Mr. Sponge whose horses I had to be-
speak stalls for," touching his hat profusely as he spoke.
" Well, this be Mister Sponge," observed"Leather, who had been
listening attentively to what passed.
" 'Deed ! " said the keeper, again turning to our hero, with an
" I beg pardon, sir, but the stable is for you then, sir, — for
Mr. Sponge, sir."
" How do you know that ? " demanded our friend.
" 'Cause Mr. Spigot, the butler, says to me, says he, ' Mr. Watson,'
says he — my name's Watson, you see," continued the speaker,
sawing away at his hat, " my name's Watson, you see, and I'm
the head gamekeeper. 'Mr. Watson,' says he, 'you must go down
to the tavern and order a three-stall stable for a gentleman of the
name of Sponge, whose horses are a comin' to-day ; ' and in course
I've come 'cordingly," added Watson.
78 ME. SPONGE'S SEOETING TOUE.
"A Uiree-staWd. stable!" observedMr. Sponge, with an emphasis.
" A three-stall'd stable," repeated Mr. Watson.
" Confound him, but he said he'd take in a hack at all events,"
observed Sponge, with a sideway shake of the head; "and a
hack he shall take in, too," he added. " Are your stables full at
Jawleyford Court ? " he asked.
" 'Ord bless you, no, sir," replied Watson with a leer ; " there's
nothin' in them but a couple of weedy hacks and a pair of old
worn-out carriage-horses."
" Then I can get this hack taken in, at all events," observed
Sponge, laying his hand on the neck of the piebald as he spoke.
" Why, as to that," replied Mr. Watson, with a shake of the
head, " I can't say nothin'."
" I must, though,'1'' rejoined Sponge, tartly ; "he said he'd take
pi my hack, or I wouldn't have come."
" Well, sir," observed the keeper, " you know best, sir."
" Confounded screw ! " muttered Sponge, turning away to give
his orders to Leather. "I'll work him for it," he added. "He
sha'n't get rid of me in a hurry — at least not unless I can get a
better billet elsewhere."
Having arranged the parting with Leather, and got a cart to
carry his things, Mr. Sponge mounted the piebald, and put
himself under the guidance of Watson to be conducted to his
destination. The first part of the journey was performed in
silence, Mr. Sponge not being particularly well pleased at the
reception his request to have his horses taken in had met with.
This silence he might perhaps have preserved throughout had it
not occurred to him, that he might pump something out of the
servant about the family he was going to visit.
" That's not a bad-like old cob of yours," he observed, drawing
rein so as to let the shaggy white come alongside of him.
" He belies his looks, then," replied Watson, with a grin of his
cadaverous face, "for he's just as bad a beast as ever looked
through a bridle. It's a parfect disgrace to a gentleman to put a
man on such a beast."
Sponge saw the sort of man he had got to deal with, and
proceeded accordingly.
" Have you lived long with Mr. Jawleyford ? " he asked.
" No, nor will I, if I can help it," replied Watson, with another
grin and another touch of the old hat. Touching his hat was
about the only piece of propriety he was up to.
" What, he's not a brick then ? " asked Sponge.
" Mean man" replied Watson with a shake of the head ;
" mean man" he repeated. "You're nowise connected with the
fam'ly, I s'pose ?" he asked with a look of suspicion lest he might
be committing himself.
MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 70
" No.'' replied Sponge ; " no ; merely an acquaintance. We
met at Laverick "Wells, and he pressed me to come and see him."
" Indeed ! " said "Watson, feeling at ease again.
" "Who did you live with before you came here ? " asked Mr.
Sponge, after a pause.
" I lived many years — the greater part of my life, indeed — with
Sir Harry Swift. He was a real gentleman now, if you like —
free, open-handed gentleman — none of your close shavin', cheese-
parin' sort of gentlemen, or imitation gentlemen, as I calls them,
but a man who knew what was due to good servants and gave
them it. "We had good wages, and all the proper 'reglars.' Bless
you, I could sell a new suit of clothes there every year, instead of
having to wear the last keeper's cast-offs, and a hat that would
disgrace anything but a flay-crow. If the linin' wasn't stuffed
lull of gun wacldin' it would be over my nose," he observed,
taking it off and adjusting the layer of wadding as he spoke.
" You should have stuck to Sir Harry," observed Mr. Sponge.
" I did" rejoined "Watson, " I did, I stuck to him to the last.
I'd have been with him now, only he couldn't get a manor at
Boulogne, and a keeper was of no use without one."
" What, he went to Boulogne, did he ? " observed Mr. Sponge.
'• Aye, the rnore's the pity," replied Watson. " He was a
gentleman, every inch of him," he added, with a shake of the head
and a sigh, as if recurring to more prosperous times. " He was
what a gentleman ought to be," he continued, " not one of your
poor, pryin', inquisitive critturs, what's always fancyin' themselves
cheated. I ordered everything in my department, and paid for it
too ; and never had a bill disputed or even commented on. I might
have charged for a ton of powder, and never had nothin' said."
" Mr. Jawleyford's not likely to find his way to Boulogne, I
suppose ? " observed Mr. Sponge.
" Not he ! " exclaimed Watson, " not he ! — safe bird — very"
" He's rich, I suppose ? " continued Sponge, with an air of
indifference.
" Why, / should say ho was ; though others say he's not,"
replied Watson, cropping the old pony with the dog-whip, as it
nearly fell on its nose. " He can't fail to be rich, with all his
property ; though they're desperate hands for gaddin' about ;
always off to some waterin' place or another, lookin' for husbands,
I suppose. I wonder," he continued, " that gentlemen can't settle
at home, and amuse themselves with coursin' and shootin'." Mr.
Watson, like many servants, thinking that the bulk of a gentleman's
income should be spent in promoting the particular sport over
which they preside.
With this and similar discourse, they beguiled the short distance
between the station and the Court — a distance, however, that
80 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
looked considerably greater after the flying rapidity of the rail.
But for these occasional returns to terra firma, people would begin
to fancy themselves birds. After rounding a large but gently
swelling hill, over the summit of which the road, after the fashion
of old roads, led, our traveller suddenly looked down upon the
wide vale of Sniperdown, with Jawleyford Court glittering with a
bright open aspect, on a fine, gradual elevation, above the broad,
smoothly-gliding river. A clear atmosphere, indicative either of
rain or frost, disclosed a vast tract of wild, flat, ill-cultivated-
looking country to the south, little interrupted by woods or signs
of population ; the whole losing itself, as it were, in an indistinct
gray outline, commingling with the fleecy white clouds in the
distance.
" Here we be," observed Watson, with a nod towards where a
tarnished red-and-gold flag floated, or rather flapped lazily in the
winter's breeze, above an irregular mass of towers, turrets, and
odd-shaped chimneys.
Jawleyford Court was a fine old mansion, partaking more of the
character of a castle than a Court, with its keep and towers,
battlements, heavily grated mullioned windows, and machicolatcd
gallery. It stood, sombre and gray, in the midst of gigantic but
now leafless sycamores, — trees that had to thank themselves for
beino* sycamores ; for, had they been oaks, or other marketable
wood, they would have been made into bonnets or shawls long
before now. The building itself was irregular, presenting different
sorts of architecture, from pure Gothic down to some even per-
fectly modern buildings ; still, viewed as a whole, it was massive
and imposing : and as Mr. Sponge looked down upon it, he
thought far more of Jawleyford and Co. than he did as the mere
occupants of a modest, white-stuccoed, green-verandahed house, at
Laverick Wells. Nor did his admiration diminish as he advanced,
and, crossing by a battlemented bridge over the moat, he viewed
the massive character of the buildings rising grandly from their
rocky foundation. An imposing, solemn-toned old clock began
striking four, as the horsemen rode under the Gothic portico,
whose notes re-echoed and reverberated, and at last lost themselves
among the towers and pinnacles of the building. Sponge, for a
moment, was awe-stricken at the magnificence of the scene, feeling
that it was what he would call " a good many cuts above him ; "
but he soon recovered his wonted impudence.
" He would have me," thought he, recalling the pressing nature
of the Jawleyford invitation.
"If you'll hold my nag," said Watson, throwing himself off the
shaggy white, " I'll ring the bell," added he, running up a wide
flight of steps to the hall-door. A riotous peal announced the
arrival.
MR. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUB
81
CHAPTER XVI.
THE JAVv'LEYFORD ESTABLISHMENT.
JAWLEYFORD OF JAWLEVFOKD COURT.
THE loud peal of the Jawley-
ford Court door-bell, an-
nouncing' Mr. Sponge's
arrival, with which we closed
the last chapter, found the
inhabitants variously en-
gaged preparing for his
reception.
Mrs. Jawleyford, with the
aid of a very indifferent
cook, was endeavouring to
arrange a becoming dinner ;
the young ladies, with the
aid of a somewhat better
sort of maid, were attractify-
ing themselves, each looking
with considerable jealousy
on the efforts of the other ;
and Mr. Jawleyford was
trotting from room to room,
eyeing the various pictures of himself, wondering which was now
the most like, and watching the emergence of curtains, carpets,
and sofas from their brown-holland covers.
A gleam of sunshine seemed to reign throughout the mansion ;
the long-covered furniture appearing to have gained freshness by
its retirement, just as a newly done-up hat surprises the wearer by its
goodness ; a few days, however, soon restore the defects of either.
All these arrangements were suddenly brought to a close by the
peal of the door-bell, just as the little stage-tinkle of a theatre stops
preparation, and compels the actors to stand forward as they are.
Mrs. Jawleyford threw aside her silk apron, and took a hasty
glance of her face in the old eagle-topped mirror in the still-room ;
the young ladies discarded their coarse dirty pocket-handkerchiefs,
and gently drew elaborately-fringed ones through their taper
fingers to give them an air of use, as they took a hasty review of
themselves in the swing mirrors ; the housemaid hurried off with
a whole armful of brown holland ; and Jawleyford threw himself
into attitude in an elaborately-carved, richly-cushioned, easy chair,
with a Disraeli's " Life of Lord George Bentinck " in his hand.
82 ME. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
But Jawleyford's thoughts were far from his book. He was sitting
on thorns lest there might not be a proper guard of honour to
receive Mr. Sponge at the entrance.
Jawleyford, as we said before, was not the man to entertain
unless he could do it "properly ; " and, as we all have our pitch-
nooes of propriety up to which we play, we may state that Jawley-
ford's note was a butler and two footmen. A butler and two
footmen he looked upon as perfectly indispensable to receiving
company. He chose to have two footmen to follow the butler,
who followed the gentleman to the spacious flight of steps leading
from the great hall to the portico, as he mounted his horse. The
world is governed a good deal by appearances.
Mr. Jawleyford started life with two most unimpeachable Johns.
They were nearly six feet high, heads well up, and legs that might
have done for models for a sculptor. They powdered with the
greatest propriety, and by tAvo o'clock each day were silk-stockinged
and pumped in full-dress Jawleyford livery ; sky-blue coats with
massive silver aiguillettes, and broad silver seams down the front
and round their waistcoat-pocket flaps 5 silver garters at their
crimson plush breeches' knees : and thus attired, they were ready
to turn out with the butler to receive visitors, and conduct them
back to their carriages. Gradually they came down in style, but
not in number, and, when Mr. Sponge visited Mr. Jawleyford, he
had a sort of out-of-door man-of-all-work who metamorphosed
himself into a second footman at short notice,
" My dear Mr. Sponge ! — I am delighted to see you ! " exclaimed
Mr. Jawleyford, rising from his easy chair, and throwing his
Disraeli's " Bentinck" aside, as Mr. Spigot, the butler, in a deep
sonorous voice, announced our worthy friend. " This is, indeed,
most truly kind of you," continued Jawleyford, advancing to meet
him ; and getting our friend by both hands, he began working
his arms up and down like the under man in a sawT-pit. "This is,
indeed, most truly kind," he repeated ; " I assure you I shall
never forget it. It's just what I like — it's just what Mrs. Jawley-
ford likes — it's just what we all like — coming without fuss or
ceremony. Spigot ! " he added, hailing old Pomposo as the latter
was slowly withdrawing, thinking what a humbug his master was
— " Spigot ! " he repeated in a louder voice ; " let the ladies know
Mr. Sponge is here. Come to the fire, my dear fellow," continued
Jawleyford, clutching his guest by the arm, and drawing him
towards where an ample grate of indifferent coals was crackling
and spluttering beneath a magnificent old oak mantelpiece of tha
richest and costliest carved work. " Come to the fire, my dear
fellow," he repeated, " for you feel cold ; and I don't wonder at it,
for the day is cheerless and uncomfortable, and you've had a long
ride. Will you take anything before dinner ? "
MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. S3
"What time do you dine?" asked Mr. Sponge, rubbing his
hands as he spoke.
"Six o'clock," replied Mr. Jawleyford, "six o'clock — say six
o'clock — not particular to a moment — days are short, you see —
days are short."
"I think I should like a glass of sherry and a biscuit, then,"
observed Mr. Sponge.
And forthwith the bell was rung, and in due course of time Mr.
Spigot arrived with a tray, followed by the Miss Jawleyfords, who
had rather expected Mr. Sponge to be shown into the drawing-
room to them, where they had composed themselves very prettily ;
one working a parrot in chenille, the other with a lapful of
crochet.
The Miss Jawleyfords — Amelia and Emily — were lively girls ;
hardly beauties — at least not sufficiently so to attract attention in
a crowd; but still, girls well calculated to "bring a man to book,"
in the country. Mr. Thackeray, who bound up all the home
truths in circulation, and many that exist only in the inner
chambers of the heart, calling the whole " Vanity Fair," says, we
think (though we don't exactly know where to lay hand on the
passage), that it is not your real striking beauties who are the most
dangerous — at all events, that do the most execution — but sly,
quiet sort of girls, who do not strike the beholder at first sight,
but steal insensibly upon him as he gets acquainted. The Miss
Jawleyfords were of this order. Seen in plain morning gowns, a
man wTould meet them in the street, without either turning round
or making an observation, good, bad, or indifferent ; but in the
close quarters of a country house, with all the able assistance of
first-rate London dresses, well flounced and set out, each bent on
doing the agreeable, they became dangerous. The Miss Jawley-
fords were uncommonly well got up, and Juliana, their mutual
maid, deserved great credit for the impartiality she displayed in
arraying them. There wasn't a halfpenny's worth of choice as to
which was the best. This was the more creditable to the maid,
inasmuch as the dresses — sea-green glaces — were rather dashed ;
and the worse they looked, the likelier they would be to become
her property. Half-dashed dresses, however, that would look
rather seedy by contrast, come out very fresh in the country, espe-
cially in winter, when day begins to close in at four. And here
we may observe, what a dreary time is that which intervenes
between the arrival of a guest and the dinner hour, in the dead
winter months in the country. The English are a desperate
people for overweighting their conversational powers. They have
no idea of penning up their small talk, and bringing it to bear in
generous flow upon one particular hour ; but they keep dribbling-
it out throughout the live-long day, wearying their listeners with-
G 2
84 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
out benefiting themselves — just as a careless waggoner scatters his
load on the road. Few people are insensible to the advantage of
having their champagne brisk, which can only be done by keeping
the cork in ; but few ever think of keeping the cork of their own
conversation in. See a Frenchman — how light and buoyant he
trips into a drawing-room, fresh from the satisfactory scrutiny of
the looking-glass, with all the news, and jokes, and tittle-tattle of
the day, in full bloom ! How sparkling and radiant he is, with
something smart and pleasant to say to every one ! How
thoroughly happy and easy he is ; and what a contrast to
phlegmatic John Bull, who stands with his great red fists doubled,
looking as if he thought whoever spoke to him would be wanting
him to endorse a bill of exchange ! But, as we said before, the
dread hour before dinner is an awful time in the country — frightful
when there are two hours, and never a subject in common for the
company to work upon. Laverick Wells and their mutual
acquaintance was all Sponge and Jawleyford's stock-in-trade ; and
that was a very small capital to begin upon, for they had been
there together too short a time to make much of a purse of conver-
sation. Even the young ladies, with their inquiries after the
respective flirtations — how Miss Sawney and Captain Snubnose
were " getting on ? " and whether the rich Widow Spankley was
likely to bring Sir Thomas Greedey to book ? — failed to make up
a conversation ; for Sponge knew little of the ins and outs of
these matters, his attention having been more directed to Mr.
Waffles than any one else. Still, the mere questions, put in a
playful, womanly way, helped the time on, and prevented things
coining to that frightful dead-lock of silence, that causes an
involuntary inward exclamation of " How am I to get through
the time with, this man ! " There are people who seem to think
that sitting and looking at each other constitutes society. Women
have a great advantage over men in the talking way ; they have
always something to say. Let a lot of women be huddled
together throughout the whole of a livelong day, and they will
yet have such a balance of conversation at night, as to render it
necessary to convert a bed-room into a clearing-house, to get rid
of it. Men, however, soon get high and dry, especially before
dinner ; and a host ought to be at liberty to read the Biot Act,
and disperse them to their bed-rooms, till such times as they
wanted to eat and drink.
A most scientifically-sounded gong, beginning low, like distant
thunder, and gradually increasing its murmur till it filled the
whole mansion with its roar, at length relieved all parties from
the labour of further efforts ; and, looking at his watch, Jawley-
ford asked Mrs. Jawleyford, in an innocent, indifferent sort of
way, which was Mr. Sponge's room ; though he had been fussing-
ME. SPONGE'S SPOETING TOUE. 85
about it not long before, and dusting the portrait of himself in
his green-and-gold yeomanry uniform, with an old pocket-
handkerchief.
" The crimson room, my dear," replied the well-drilled Mrs.
Jawleyford ; and Spigot coming with candles, Jawleyford preceded
"Mr. Sponge" up a splendid richly-carved oak staircase, of such
gradual and easy rise that an invalid might almost have been drawn
up it in a garden-chair.
Passing a short distance along a spacious corridor, Mr. Jawley-
ford presently opened a door to the right, and led the way into a
large gloomy room, with a little newly-lighted wood fire crackling
in an enormous grate, making darkness visible, and drawing the
cold out of the walls. We need scarcely say it was that terrible
room — the best ; with three creaking, ill-fitting Avindows, and
heavy crimson satin-damask furniture, so old as scarcely to be able
to sustain its own weight.
" Ah ! here you are," observed Mr. Jawleyford, as he nearly
tripped over Sponge's luggage as it stood by the fire. " Here you
are," repeated he, giving the candle a flourish, to show the size of
the room, and draw it back on the portrait of himself above the
mantel-piece. " Ah ! I declare here's an old picture of myself,"
said he, holding the candle up to the face, as if he hadn't seen it
for some time, — "a picture that was done when I was in the
Bumperkin yeomanry," continued he, passing the light before the
facings. " That was considered a good likeness at the time," said
he, looking affectionately at it, and feeling his nose to see if it was
still the same size : " ours was a capital corps — one of the best, if
not the very best in the service. The inspecting officer always
spoke of it in the highest possible terms — especially of my company,
which really was just as perfect as anything my Lord Cardigan,
or any of your crack disciplinarians, can produce. However,
never mind," continued he, lowering the candle, seeing Mr. Sponge
didn't enter into the spirit of the thing ; " you'll be wanting to
dress. You'll find hot water on the table yonder," pointing to the
far corner of the room, where the outline of a jug might just be
descried ; "there's a bell in the bed if you want anything ; and
dinner will be ready as soon as you are dressed. You needn't make
yourself very fine," added he, as he retired ; "for we are only our-
selves : hope we shall have some of our neighbours to-morrow or
next day. but we are rather badly off for neighbours just here — at
least for short-notice neighbours." So saying, he disappeared
through the dark doorway.
The latter statement was true enough, for Jawleyford, though
apparently such a fine open-hearted, sociable sort of man, was in
reality a very quarrelsome, troublesome fellow. He quarrelled with
all his neighbours in succession, generally getting through them
86
MB. SFONGE'8 SPORTING TOUR.
every two or three years ; and his acquaintance were divided into
two classes — the best and the worst i'ellows under the sun. A
stranger revising Jawleyford after an absence of a year or two,
would very likely find the best fellows of former days transformed
into the worst ones of that. Thus, Parson Hobanob, that pet
victim of country caprice, would come in and go out of season like
lamb or asparagus ; Major Moustache and Jawleyford would be as
"thick as thieves" one day, and at daggers drawn the next ; Squire
Squaretoes, of Squaretoes House, and he, were continually kissing
or cutting ; and even distance — nine miles of bad road, and, of'
course, heavy tolls— could not keep the peace between lawyer
Seedy wig and him. What between rows and reconciliations,
Jawleyford was always at work.
CHAPTER XVII.
THE DINNER.
T OTWITHSTANDING Jawley-
ford's recommendation to the
contrary, Mr. Sponge made
himself an uncommon swell.
He put on a desperately stiff
starcher, secured in front with
a large gold fox-head pin with
carbuncle eyes ; a fine, fancy-
fronted shirt, with a slight
tendency to pink, adorned with
mosaic-gold-tethered studs of
sparkling diamonds (or French
paste, as the case might be) ;
a white waistcoat with fancy
buttons ; a blue coat with
bright plain ones, and a velvet
collar, black tights, with broad
black - and - white Cranbourne-
alley-looking stockings (socks,
rather), and patent leather
pumps with gilt buckles-
Sponge wras proud of his leg. The young ladies, too, turned out
rather smart ; for Amelia, finding that Emily was going to put on
her new yellow watered silk, instead of a dyed satin she had talked
of, made Juliana produce her broad-laced blue satin dress out of
MAKING LIGHT WINE.
MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 87
the wardrobe in the green dressing-room, where it had been laid
away in an old tablecloth ; and bound her dark hair with a green-
beaded wreath, which Emily met by crowning herself with a chaplct
of white roses.
Thus attired, with smiles assumed at the door, the young ladies
entered the drawing-room in the full fervour of sisterly animosity.
They were very much alike, in size, shape, and face. They were
tallish and fall-figured, Miss Jawleyford's features being rather
more strongly marked, and her eyes a shade darker than her
sister's ; while there was a sort of subdued air about her — the
result, perhaps, of enlarged intercourse with the world — or maybe
of disappointments. Emily's eyes sparkled and glittered, without
knowing perhaps why.
Dinner was presently announced. It was of the imposing order
that people give their friends on a first visit, as though their
appetites were larger on that day than on any other. They dined
off plate : the sideboards glittered with the Jawleyford arms on
cups, tankards, and salvers ; " Brecknel & Turner's " flamed and
swealed in profusion on the table ; while every now and then an
expiring lamp on the sideboards or brackets proclaimed the
unwonted splendour of the scene, and added a flavour to the repast
not contemplated by the cook. The room, which was large and
lofty, being but rarely used, had a cold, uncomfortable feel ; and,
if it hadn't been for the looks of the thing, Jawleyford would,
perhaps, as soon that they had dined in the little breakfast parlour.
Still there was everything very smart ; Spigot in full fig, with a
shirt-frill nearly tickling his nose, an acre of white waistcoat, and
glorious calves swelling within his gauze-silk stockings. The
improvised footman went creaking about, as such gentlemen
generally do.
The style was perhaps better than the repast : still they had
turtle-soup (Shell & Tortoise, to be sure, but still turtle-soup) ;
while the wines were supplied by the well-known firm of
" VVintle & Co." Jawleyford sank where he got it, and pre-
tended that it had been "ages " in his cellar : "he really had such
a stock that he thought he should never get through it ; " — to
wit, two dozen old port at 3Gs. a dozen, and one dozen at 485. ;
two dozen pale sherry at 36s., and one dozen brown ditto at 485. ;
three bottles of Bucellas, of the " finest quality imported," at 885.
a dozen ; Lisbon " rich and dry," at 32s. ; and some marvellous
creaming champagne at 48s., in which they were indulging when
he made the declaration : " Don't wait of me, my dear Mr.
Sponge ! " exclaimed Jawleyford, holding up a long needle-case of
a glass with the Jawleyford crests emblazoned about ; " don't wait
of me, pray" repeated he, as Spigot finished dribbling the froth
into Sponge's glass ; and Jawleyford, with a flourishing bow and
88 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
waive of his empty needle-case, drank Mr. Sponge's very good
health, adding, " I'm extremely happy to sec you at Jawleyford
Court."
It was then Jawleyford's turn to have a little froth ; and having
sucked it up with the air of a man drinking nectar, he sat down
his glass with a shake of the head, saying,
" There's no such wine as that to he got now-a-days."
" Capital wine ! — Excellent ! " exclaimed Sponge, who was a
better judge of ale than of champagne. "Pray, where might you
get it ? "
" Impossible to say ! — Impossible to say ! " replied Jawleyford,
throwing up his hands with a shake, and shrugging his shoulders.
" I have such a stock of wine as is really quite ridiculous."
" Quite ridiculous," thought Spigot, who, by the aid of a fake
key, had been through the cellar.
Except the "Shell & Tortoise" and " Wintle," the estate
supplied the repast. The carp was out of the home-pond ; the
tench, or whatever it was, was out of the mill-pond ; the mutton
was from the farm ; the carrot-and-turnip-and-beet-bedaubed
stewed beef was from ditto ; while the garden supplied the
vegetables that luxuriated in the massive silver side-dishes.
Watson's gun furnished the old hare and partridges that opened
the ball of the second course ; and tarts, jellies, preserves, and
custards made their usual appearances. Some first-growth Chateaux
Margaux "Wintle," again at GGs., in very richly-cut decanters,
accompanied the old 3Gs. port ; and apples, pears, nuts, figs,
preserved fruits, occupied the splendid green-and-gold dessert set.
Everything, of course, was handed about— an ingenious way of
tormenting a person that has "dined." The ladies sat long,
Mrs. Jawleyford taking three glasses of port (when she could
get it) ; and it was a quarter to eight when they rose from the
table.
Jawleyford then moved an adjournment to the fire ; which
Sponge gladly seconded, for he had never been warm since he
came into the house, the heat from the fires seeming to go up the
chimneys. Spigot set them a little round table, placing the port
and claret upon it, and bringing them a plate of biscuits in lieu of
the dessert. He then reduced the illumination on the table, and
extinguished such of the lamps as had not gone out of them-
selves. Having cast an approving glance around, and seen that
they had what he considered right, he left them to their own
devices.
"Do you drink port or claret, Mr. Sponge ? " asked Jawleyford,
preparing to push whichever he preferred over to him.
" I'll take a little \>oxt, first, if you please," replied our friend —
as much as to say, " I'll finish off with claret." •
Mil. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 89
" You'll find that very good, I expect," said Mr. Jawleyford,
passing the bottle to him ; " it's '20 wine — very rare wine to get
now — was a very rich fruity wine, and Avas a long time before
it came into drinking. Connoisseurs would give any money
for it."
" It has still a good deal of body," observed Sponge, turning off
a glass and smacking his lips, at the same time holding the glass
up to the candle to see the oily mark it made on the side.
" Good sound wine — good sovnd wine," said Mr. Jawleyford.
" Have plenty lighter, if you like." The light wine was made by
watering the strong.
" Oh no, thank you," replied Mr. Sponge, " oh no, thank you.
I like good strong military port."
" So do I," said Mr. Jawleyford, " so do I ; only unfortunately
it doesn't like me — am obliged to drink claret. When I was in
the Bumperkin yeomanry we drauk nothing but port." And then
Jawleyford diverged into a long rambling dissertation on messes
and cavalry tactics, which nearly sent Mr. Sponge asleep.
" Where did you say the hounds are to-morrow ? " at length
asked he, after Mr. Jawleyford had talked himself out.
''To-morrow," repeated Mr. Jawleyford, thoughtfully, "to-
morrow— they don't hunt to-morrow — not one of their clays —
next day. Scram bleford- green — Scrambleford-green — no, no, I'm
wrong — Dundleton Tower — Dundleton Tower."
" How far is that from here ? " asked Mr. Sponge.
" Oh, ten miles — say ten miles," replied Mr. Jawleyford. It
was sometimes ten, and sometimes fifteen, depending upon whether
Mr. Jawleyford wanted the party to go or not. These elastic
places, however, are common in all countries — to sight-seers as
well as to hunters. " Close by — close by," one day. " Oh ! a
lo-o-ng way from here," another.
It is difficult, for parties who have nothing in common, to drive
a conversation, especially when each keeps jibbing to get upon a
private subject of his own. Jawleyford was all for sounding
Sponge as to where he came from, and the situation of his
property ; for as yet, it must be remembered, he knew nothing of
our friend, save what he had gleaned at Laveriek Wells, where cer-
tainly all parties concurred in placing him high on the list of " desir-
ables," while Sponge wanted to talk about hunting, the meets of
the hounds, and hear what sort of a man Lord Scamperdale was.
So they kept playing at cross-purposes, without either getting
much out of the other. Jawleyford's intimacy with Lord Scam-
perdale seemed to have diminished with propinquity, for he now
no longer talked of him — " Scamperdale this, and Scamperdale
that — Scamperdale, with whom he could do anything he liked ; "
but he called him " My Lord Scamperdale," and spoke of him in a
90 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
reverent and becoming way. Distance often lends boldness to the
tongue, as the poet Campbell says it
Lends enchantment to the view,
And robes the mountain in its azure hue.
There are few great men who haven't a dozen people, at least, who
"keep them right," as they call it. To hear some of the creatures
talk, one would fancy a lord was a lunatic as a matter of course.
Spigot at last put an end to their efforts by announcing that
" tea and coffee were ready ! " just as Mr. Sponge buzzed his bottle
of port. They then adjourned from the gloom of the large oak-
wainscoted dining-room, to the effulgent radiance of the well-lit,
highly-gilt drawing-room, where our fair friends had commenced
talking Mr. Sponge over as soon as they retired from the dining-
room.
"And what do you think of him ? " asked mamma.
" Oh, I think he's very well," replied Emily, gaily.
" I should say he was very foor-lerable," drawled Miss Jawleyford,
who reckoned herself rather a judge, and indeed had had some
experience of gentlemen.
" Tolerable, my dear ! " rejoined Mrs. Jawleyford, " I should say
he's very well — rather distingue, indeed."
"I shouldn't say that" replied Miss Jawleyford ; "his height
and figure are certainly in his favour, but he isn't quite my idea of
a gentleman. He is evidently on good terms with himself ; but I
should say, if it wasn't for his forwardness, he'd be awkward and
uneasy."
" He's a foxhunter, you know," observed Emily.
" Well, but I don't know that that should make him different to
other people," rejoined her sister. "Captain Curzon, and Mr.
Lancaster, and Mr. Preston, were all foxhunters ; but they didn't
stare, and blurt, and kick their legs about, as this man does."
" Oh, you are so fastidious ! " rejoined her mamma ; " you
must take men as you find them."
"I wonder where he lives ?" observed Emily, who was quite
ready to take our friend as he was.
" I wonder where he does live ? " chimed in Mrs. Jawleyford,
for the suddenness of the descent had given them no time for
inquiry.
" Somebody said Manchester" observed Miss Jawleyford, drily.
" So much the better," observed Mrs. Jawleyford, " for then he
is sure to have plenty of money."
" Law, ma ! but you don't s'pose pa would ever allow such a
thing," retorted Miss, recollecting her papa's frequent exhortations
to them to look high.
" If he's a landowner." observed Mrs. Jawleyford, " we'll soon
Mil. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 91
•
find him out in Burke. Emily, my dear," added she, "just go
into your pa's room, and bring me the ' Commoners ' — you'll find
it on the large table, between the ' Peerage ' and the ' Wellington
Despatches.' "
Emily tripped away to do as she was bid. The fair messenger
presently returned, bearing both volumes, richly bound and
lettered, with the Jawleyford crests studded down the backs, and
an immense coat of arms on the side.
A careful search among the S's produced nothing in the shape
of Sponge.
" Not likely, I should think," observed Miss Jawleyford, with a
toss of her head, as her mamma announced the fact.
"Well, never mind," replied Mrs. Jawleyford, seeing that only
one of the girls could have him, and that one was quite ready ;
" never mind, I dare say I shall be able to find out something
from himself," and so they dropped the subject.
In due time in swaggered our hero, himself, kicking his legs
about as men in tights or tops generally do.
" May I give you tea or coffee ? " asked Emily, in the sweetest
tone possible, as she raised her finely turned glovelcss arm towards
where the glittering appendages stood on the large silver tray
" Neither, thank you," said Sponge, throwing himself into an
easy-chair beside Mrs. Jawleyford. He then crossed his legs, and
cocking up a toe for admiration, began to yawn.
" You feel tired after your journey ? " observed Mrs. Jawleyford.
" No, I'm not," said Sponge, yawning again — a good yawn this
time.
Miss Jawleyford looked significantly at her sister — a long pause
ensued.
" I knew a family of your name," at length observed Mrs.
Jawleyford, in the simple sort of way women begin pumping men.
" I knew a family of your name," repeated she, seeing Sponge was
half asleep — " the Sponges of Toadey Hall. Pray are they any
relation of yours ? "
" Oh — ah — yes," blurted Sponge : " I suppose they are. The
fact is — the — haw — Sponges — haw — are a rather large family —
haw. Meet them almost everywhere."
" You don't live in the same county, perhaps ? " observed Mrs.
Jawleyford.
"No, we don't," replied he, with a yawn.
" Is yours a good hunting country ? " asked Jawleyford, think-
ing to sound him in another way.
" No ; a devilish bad 'un," replied Sponge, adding with a grunt,
"or I wouldn't be here."
" Who hunts it ? " asked Mr. Jawleyford.
" Why, as to that — haw " — replied Sponge, stretching out his
02 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
arms and legs to their fullest extent, and yawning most vigorously
— " why, as to that, I can hardly say which you would call my
country, for I have to do with so many ; but I should say, of all
the countries I am — haw — connected with — haw — Tom Scratch's
is the worst."
Mr. Jawleyford looked at Mrs Jawleyford as a counsel who
thinks he has made a grand hit looks at a jury before he sits down,
and said no more.
Mrs. Jawleyford looked as innocent as most jurymen do after
one of these forensic exploits. — Mr. Sponge beginning his nasal
recreations, Mrs. Jawleyford motioned the ladies off to bed — Mr.
Sponge and his host presently followed.
CHAPTEK XVIII.
THE EVENING'S REFLECTIONS.
" AVell, I think he'll do," said our friend to himself, as having
reached his bed-room, in accordance with modern fashion, he
applied a cedar match to the now somewhat better burnt-up fire,
for the purpose of lighting a cigar — a cigar ! in the state-bedroom
of Jawleyford Court. Having divested himself of his smart blue
coat and white waistcoat, and arrayed himself in a gray dressing-
gown, he adjusted the loose cushions of a recumbent chair, and
soused himself into its luxurious depths for a " think over."
" He has money," mused Sponge, between the copious whiffs of
the cigar, " splendid style he lives in, to be sure " (puff), continued
he, after another long draw, as he adjusted the ash at the end of
the cigar. " Two men in livery" (puff), "one out, can't be done
for nothing" (puff). " "What a profusion of plate, too ! " (whiff)
— " 'declare I never *' (puff) " saw such " (whiff, puff) " magnifi-
cence in the whole course of my" (whiff, puff) " life."
The cigar being then well under way, he sucked and puffed and
whiffed in an apparently vacant stupor, his legs crossed, and his
eyes fixed on a projecting coal between the lower bars, as if intent
on watching the alternations of flame and gas ; though in reality
he was running all the circumstances through his mind, comparing
them with his past experience, and speculating on the probable
result of the present adventure.
He had seen a good deal of service in the matrimonial wrars,
and was entitled to as many bars as the most distinguished
peninsular veteran. No woman with money, or the reputation of
MR. SPONGE IN" THE BEST BEDROOM AT JAWLEYFORD COURT.
[P. S2
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 93
it, ever wanted an offer while he was in the way, for he would
accommodate her at the second or third interview : and always
pressed for an immediate fulfilment, lest the " cursed lawyers "
should interfere and interrupt their felicity. Somehow or other,
the " cursed lawyers " always had interfered : and as sure as they
walked in, Mr. Sponge walked out. He couldn't bear the idea of
their coarse, inquisitive inquiries. He was too much of a gentle-
man !
Love, light as air, at sight of human ties
Spreads his light wings and in a moment flies.
So Mr. Sponge fled, consoling himself with the reflection that
there was no harm done, and hoping for " better luck next time."
He roved from flower to flower like a butterfly, touching here,
alighting there, but always passing away with apparent indiffe-
rence. He knew if he couldn't square matters at short notice, he
would have no better chance with an extension of time ; so, if he
saw things taking the direction of inquiry, he would just laugh
the offer off, pretend he was only feeling his way — saw he was not
acceptable — sorry for it — and away he would go to somebody else.
He looked upon a woman much in the light of a horse ; if she
didn't suit one man, she would another, and there was no harm in
trying. So he puffed and smoked, and smoked and puffed —
gliding gradually into wealth and prosperity.
A second cigar assisted his comprehension considerably — just as
a second bottle of wine not only helps men through their
difficulties, but shows them the way to unbounded wealth. Many
of the bright railway schemes of former days, we make no doubt,
were concocted under the inspiring influence of the bottle. Sponge
now saw everything as he wished. All the errors of his former
days were apparent to him. He saw how indiscreet it was
confiding in Miss Trickery's cousin, the major ; why the rich
widow at Chesterfield had chassccd him ; and how he was done
out of the beautiful Miss Rainbow, with her beautiful estate, with
its lake, its heronry, and its perpetual advowson. Other mishaps
he also considered.
Having disposed of the past, he then turned his attention to the
future. Here were two beautiful girls apparently full of money,
between whom there wasn't the toss-up of a halfpenny for choice.
Most exemplary parents, too, who didn't seem to care a farthing
about money.
He then began speculating on what the girls would have.
"Great house — great establishment — great estate, doubtless.
Why, confound it," continued he, casting his heavy eye lazily
around, " here's a room as big as a field in a cramped country !
Can't have less than fifty thousand a-piece, I should say, at the
least. Jawleyford, to be sure, is young," thought he ; " may live a
94 MR. SFONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
long time " (pnff). " If Mrs. J. were to die (Curse — the cigar's
burnt my lips "), added he, throwing the remnant into the fire,
and rolling out of the chair to prepare for turning into bed.
If any one had told Sponge that there was a rich papa and
mamma on the look-out merely for amiable young men to bestow
their fair daughters upon, he would have laughed them to scorn,
and said, " Why, you fool, they are only laughing at you ; " or
" Don't you see they are playing you off against somebody else ? "
But our hero, like other men, was blind where he himself was con-
cerned, and concluded that he was the exception to the general rule.
Mr. and Mrs. Jawleyford had their consultation too.
" Well," said Mr. Jawleyford, seating himself on the high wire
fender immediately below a marble bust of himself on the mantel-
piece ; " I think he'll do."
"Oh, no doubt," replied Mrs. Jawleyford, who never saw any
difficulty in the way of a match ; " I should say he is a very nice
young man," continued she.
" Rather trusque in his manner, perhaps,'' observed Jawleyford,
who was quite the " lady" himself. " I wonder what he has ? "
added he, fingering away at his whiskers.
" He's rich, I've no doubt," replied Mrs. Jawleyford.
" What makes you think so ? " asked her loving spouse.
" I don't know," replied Mrs. Jawleyford ; " somehow I feel
certain he is — but I can't tell why — all foxhunters are."
" I don't know that," replied Jawleyford, who knew some very
poor ones. " I should like to know wmat he has," continued
Jawleyford musingly, looking up at the deeply corniced ceiling as
if he were calculating the chances among the filagree ornaments of
the centre.
" A hundred thousand, perhaps," suggested Mrs. Jawleyford, who
only knew two sums — fifty and a hundred thousand.
" That's a vast of money," replied Jawleyford, with a slight
shake of the head.
" Fifty at least, then," suggested Mrs. Jawleyford, coming down
half way at once.
" Well, if he has that, he'll do," rejoined Jawleyford, who also had
come down considerably in his expectations since the vision of his
railway days, at whose bright light he had burnt his fingers.
" He was said to have an immense fortune — I forget how much
— at Laverick Wells," observed Mrs. Jawleyford.
" Well, we'll see," said Jawleyford ; adding, " I suppose either
of the girls will be glad enough to take him ? "
" Trust them for that," replied Mrs. Jawleyford, with a knowing
smile and nod of the head : " trust them for that," repeated she.
" Though Amelia does turn up her nose and pretend to be fine,
rely upon it she only wants to be sure that he's worth having."
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
95
" Emily seems ready enough, at all events," observed
Jawleyford.
" She'll never get the chance,1' observed. Mrs. Jawleyford.
" Amelia is a very prudent girl, and won't commit herself, but she
knows how to manage the men."
" Well then," said Jawleyford, with a hearty yawn, " I suppose
we may as well go to bed."
So saying, he took his candle and retired.
CHAPTER XIX.
THE WET DAY.
" THIS, OF COURSE YOU KNOW ':
When the dirty slip-shod housemaid came in the morning with
her blacksmith's-looking tool-box to light Mr. Sponge's fire, a
riotous winter's day was in the full swing of its gloomy, deluging
power. The wind howled, and roared, and whistled, and shrieked,
9G ME. SPONGE'S SPOETING TOUR.
playing a sort of aaolian harp amongst the towers, pinnacles, and
irregular castleisations of the house ; while the old casements
rattled and shook, as though some one were trying to knock
them in.
" Hang the day ! " muttered Sponge from beneath the bed-
clothes. " What the deuce is a man to do with himself on such a
day as this, in the country ? " thinking how much better he would
be flattening his nose against the coffee-room window of the
Bantam, or strolling through the horse-dealers' stables in
Piccadilly or Oxford-street.
Presently the over-night chair before the fire, with the picture
of Jawleyford in the Bumperkin yeomanry, as seen through the
parted curtains of the spacious bed, recalled his over-night specu-
lations, and he began to think that perhaps he was just as well
where he was. He then " backed " his ideas to where he had left
off, and again began speculating on the chances of his position.
" Deuced fine girls," said he, " both of 'em : wonder what he'll
give 'em down ? " — recurring to his over-night speculations, and
hitting upon the point at which he had burnt his lips with the
end of the cigar — namely, Jawleyford's youth, and the possibility
of his marrying again if Mrs. Jawleyford were to die. " It
won't do to raise up difficulties for one's-self, however," mused
he ; so, kicking off the bedclothes, he raised himself instead,
and making for a window, began to gaze upon his expectant
territory.
It was a terrible day ; the ragged, spongy clouds drifted heavily
along, and the lowering gloom was only enlivened by the
occasional driving rush of the tempest. Earth and sky were
pretty much the same grey, damp, disagreeable hue.
" Well," said Sponge to himself, having £azed sufficiently on
the uninviting landscape, " it's just as well it's not a hunting day
— should have got terribly soused. Must get through the time
as well as I can — girls to talk to — house to see. Hope I've
brought my Mogg," added he, turning to his portmanteau, and
diving for his "Ten Thousand Cab Fares." Having found the
invaluable volume, his almost constant study, he then proceeded
to array himself in what he considered the most captivating
apparel ; a new wide-sleeved dock-tail coatee, with outside pockets
placed very low, faultless drab trousers, a buff waistcoat, with a
cream-coloured once-round silk tie, secured by red cornelian
cross-bars set in gold, for a pin. Thus attired, with " Mogg " in
his pocket, he swaggered down to the breakfast-room, which he
hit off by means of iistening at the doors till he heard the sound
of voices, within.
Mrs. Jawleyford and the young ladies were all smiles and
smirks, and there were no symptoms of Miss Jawleyford's hauteur
ME. SPONGE'S SFOBTING TOUR. 97
perceptible. They all came forward and shook hands with our
friend most cordially. Mr. Jawleyford, too, was all flourish and
compliment ; now tilting at the weather, now congratulating
himself upon having secured Mr. Sponge's society in the
house.
That leisurely meal of protracted ease, a country-house break-
fast, being at length accomplished, and the ladies having taken
their departure, Mr. Jawleyford looked out on the terrace, upon
which the angry rain was beating the standing water into bubbles,
and observing that there was no chance of getting out, asked Mr.
Sponge if he could amuse himself in the house.
" Oh, yes," replied he, " got a book in my pocket."
" Ah. I suppose — the 'New Monthly,' perhaps ? " observed Mr.
Jawleyford.
" No," replied Sponge.
" Dizzey's ' Life of Bentinck,' then, I daresay," suggested
Jawleyford ; adding, " I'm reading it myself."
" No, nor that either," replied Sponge, with a knowing look ;
" a much more useful work, I assure you," added he, pulling the
little purple-backed volume out of his pocket, and reading the gilt
letters on the back; " ' Mogg's Ten Thousand Cab Fares, price
one shilling ! ' "
" Indeed," exclaimed Mr. Jawleyford, '• well, I should never
have guessed that."
" I daresay not," replied Sponge, " I daresay not ; it's a book I
never travel without. It's invaluable in town, and you may study
it to great advantage in the country. With Mogg in my hand, I
can almost fancy myself in both places at once. Omnibus guide,"
added he, turning over the leaves, and reading, " Acton five, from
the end of Oxford-street and the Edger-road — see Ealing ;
Edmonton seven, from Shoreditch Church — ' Green Man and
Still,' Oxfurd-street— Shepherd's Bush and Starch Green, Bank,
and Whitechapel — Tooting — Totteridge — Wandsworth ; in short,
every place near town. Then the cab fares are truly invaluable ;
you have ten thousand of them here," said he, tapping the book,
" and you may calculate as many more for yourself as ever you
like. Nothing to do but sit in an arm-chair on a wet day like
this, and say, If from the Mile End turnpike to the 'Castle' on the
Kingsland-road is so much, how much should it be to the ' York-
shire Stingo,' or Pine- Apple-place, Maida Vale ? And you
measure by other fares till you get as near the place you want as
you can, if it isn't set down in black and white to your hand in
the book."
" Just so," said Jawleyford, " just so. It must be a very useful
work indeed, very useful work. I'll get one — I'll get one. How
much did you say it was — a guinea ? a guinea ? "
H
98 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
" A shitting," replied Sponge, adding, " you may have mine for
a guinea if you like."
" By Jove, what a day it is ! " observed Jawleyford, turning the
conversation, as the wind dashed the hard sleet against the
window like a shower of pebbles. " Lucky to have a good house
over one's head, such weather ; and, by the way, that reminds me,
I'll show you my new gallery and collection of curiosities —
pictures, busts, marbles, antiques, and so on ; there'll be fires on, and
we shall be just as well there as here." So saying, Jawleyford led
the way through a dark, intricate, shabby passage, to where a
much gilded white door, with a handsome crimson curtain over it
announced the entrance to something better. " Now," said Mr.
Jawleyford, bowing as he threw open the door, and motioned, or
rather flourished, his guest to enter — " now," said he, " you shall
see what you shall see."
Mr. Sponge entered accordingly, and found himself at the end
of a gallery fifty feet by twenty, and fourteen high, lighted by
skylights and small windows round the top. There were fires in
handsome Caen-stone chimney-pieced fireplaces on either side, a
large timepiece and an organ at the far end, and sundry white
basius scattered about, catching the drops from the skylights.
" Hang the rain ! " exclaimed Jawleyford, as he saw it trickling
over a river scene of Van Goyen's (gentlemen in a yacht, and
figures in boats), and drip, drip, dripping on to the head of an
infant Bacchus below.
"He wants an umbrella, that young gentleman," observed
Sponge, as Jawleyford proceeded to dry him with his handker-
chief.
" Fine thing," observed Jawleyford, starting off to a side, and
pointing to it ; " fine thing — Italian marble — by Frere — cost a
vast of money — was offered three hundred for it. Are you a judge
of these things ? " asked Jawleyford ; "are you a judge of these
things ? "
"A little," replied Sponge, "a little;" thinking he might as
well see what his intended father-in-law's personal property was
like.
" There's a beautiful thing ! " observed Jawleyford, pointing to
another group. " I picked that up for a mere nothing — twenty
guineas — worth two hundred at least. Lipsalve, the great picture-
dealer in Gammon Passage, offered me Murillo's 'Adoration of the
Virgin and Shepherds,' for which he shewed me a receipt for a
hundred and eighty-five, for it."
" Indeed ! " replied Sponge, " what is it ? "
" It's a Bacchanal group, after Ponssin, sculptured by Marin. 1
bought it at Lord Breakdown's sale ; it happened to be a wet
day — much such a day as this — and things went for nothing.
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 9«J
This you'll know, I presume ? " observed Jawleyford, laying his
hand on a life-size bust of Diana, in Italian marble.
" No, I don't," replied Sponge.
" No ! " exclaimed Jawleyford ; " I thought everybody had
known this : this is my celebrated ' Diana,' by Noindon — one of
the finest things in the world. Louis Philippe sent an agent over
to this country expressly to buy it."
" Why didn't you sell it him ? " asked Sponge.
" Didn't want the money," replied Jawleyford, " didn't want the
money. In addition to which, though a king, he was a bit of a
screw, and Ave couldn't agree upon terms. This," observed
Jawleyford, " is a vase of the Cinque Cento period — a very fine
thing ; and this," laying his hand on the crown of a much frizzed,
barber's-window-looking bust, " of course you know ? "
" No, I don't," replied Sponge.
" No ! " exclaimed Jawleyford, in astonishment.
" No," repeated Sponge.
" Look again, my dear fellow ; you must know it," observed
Jawleyford.
" I suppose it's meant for you," at last replied Sponge, seeing
his host's anxiety.
" Meant! my dear fellow ; why, don't you think it like ? "
"Why, there's a resemblance, certainly," said Sponge, "now that
one knows. But I shouldn't have guessed it was you."
" Oh, my dear Mr. Sponge ! " exclaimed Jawleyford, in a tone of
mortification, " Do you really mean to say you don't think it like ?"
" Why, yes, it's like," replied Sponge, seeing which way his host
wanted it ; " it's like, certainly ; the want of expression in the eye
makes such a difference between a bust and a picture."
" True," replied Jawleyford, comforted — " true," repeated he,
looking affectionately at it ; "I should say it was very like — like
as anything can be. You are rather too much above it there, you
see ; sit down here," continued he, leading Sponge to an ottoman
surrounding a huge model of the column in the Place Vendome,
that stood in the middle of the room — " sit down here now, and
look, and say if you don't think it like ? "
" Oh, very like," replied Sponge, as soon as he had seated
himself. " I see it now, directly ; the mouth is yours to a T."
" And the chin ? It's my chin, isn't it ?" asked Jawleyford.
" Yes ; and the nose, and the forehead, and the whiskers, and
the hair, and the shape of the head, and everything. Oh ! I see it
now as plain as a pikestaff," observed Sponge.
" I thought you would," rejoined Jawleyford, comforted — " I
thought you would ; it's generally considered an excellent likeness
— so it should, indeed, for it cost a vast of money — fifty guineas !
to say nothing of the lotus-leafed pedestal it's on. That's another
H 2
100 MB. SPONGE'S SPOBTING TOUB.
of me," continued Jawleyford, pointing to a bust above the
fireplace, on the opposite side of the gallery ; " done some years
since — ten or twelve, at least — not so like as this, but still like.
That portrait up there, just above the 'Finding of Moses,' by
Poussin," pointing to a portrait of himself attitudinising, with his
hand on his hip, and frock-coat well thrown back, so as to show
his figure and the silk lining to advantage, " was done the other
day, by a very rising young artist ; though he has hardly done me
justice, perhaps — particularly in the nose, which he's made far too
thick and heavy ; and the right hand, if anything, is rather
clumsy ; otherwise the colouring is good, and there is a consider-
able deal of taste in the arrangement of the background, and so
on."
" "What book is it you are pointing to ? " asked Sponge.
" It's not a book," replied Mr. Jawleyford, " it's a plan — a plan
of this gallery, in fact. I am supposed to be giving the final order
for the erection of the very edifice we are now in."
" And a very handsome building it is," observed Sponge, think-
ing he would make it a shooting-gallery when he got it.
" Yes it's a handsome thing in its way," assented Jawleyford ;
" better if it had been water-tight, perhaps," added he, as a big-
drop splashed upon the crown of his head.
" The contents must be very valuable," observed Sponge.
" Very valuable," replied Jawleyford. " There's a thing I gave
two hundred and fifty guineas for — that vase. It's of Parian
marble, of the Cinque Cento period, beautifully sculptured in a
dance of Bacchanals, arabesques, and chimera figures : it was
considered cheap. Those fine monkeys in Dresden china, playing
on musical instruments, were forty ; thoses bronzes of scara-
mouches, on or-molu plinths were seventy ; that or-mulu clock, of
the style of Louis Quinze, by Le Roy, was eighty ; those Sevres
vases were a hundred — mounted, you see, in or-molu, with lily
candelabra for ten lights. The handles," continued he, drawing
Sponge's attention to them, "are very handsome — composed of
satyrs holding festoons of grapes and flowers, which surround the
neck of the vase ; on the sides are pastoral subjects, painted in the
highest style — nothing can be more beautiful, or more chaste."
"Nothing," assented Sponge.
" The pictures I should think are most valuable," observed
Jawleyford. " My friend Lord Sparklebury said to me the last
time lie was here — he's now in Italy, increasing his collection —
' Jawleyford, old boy,' said he, for we are very intimate — just like
brothers, in fact ; ' Jawleyford, old boy, I wonder whether your
collection or mine would fetch most money, if they were Christie-
&-Manson'd.' ' Oh, your lordship,' said I, ' your Guidos, and
Ostades, and Poussins, and Velasquez, are not to be surpassed.'
MB. SPONGE'S SPOETING TOUR. 101
' True,' replied his lordship, ' they are fine — very fine ; hub you
have the Murillos. I'd like to give you a good round sura,' added
he, ' to pick out half-a-dozen pictures out of your gallery.' Do you
understand pictures ? " continued Jawleyford, turning short on his
friend Sponge.
" A little," replied Sponge, in a tone that might mean either yes
or no — a great deal or nothing at all.
Jawleyford then took him and worked him through bis collec-
tion— talked of light and shade, and tone, and depth of colouring,
tints, and pencillings ; and put Sponge here and there and every-
where to catch the light (or rain, as the case might be) ; made him
convert his hand into an opera-glass, and occasionally put his head
between his legs to get an upside-down view — a feat that Sponge's
equestrian experience made him pretty well up to. So they looked,
and admired, and criticised, till Spigot's all-important figure
came looming up the gallery and announced that luncheon was
ready.
" Bless me ! " exclaimed Jawleyford, pulling a most diminutive
Geneva watch, hung with pencils, pistol-keys, and other curiosities,
out of his pocket ; " Bless me, who'd have thought it ? One
o'clock, I declare ! "Well, if this doesn't prove the value of a
gallery on a wet day, I don't know what does. However," said he,
" we must tear ourselves away for the present and go and see what
the ladies are about."
If ever a man may be excused for indulging in luncheon, it
certainly is on a pouring wet day (when he eats for occupation), or
when he is making love ; both which excuses Mr. Sponge had to
offer, so he just sat down and ate as heartily as the best of the
party, not excepting his host himself, who was an excellent hand
at luncheon.
Jawleyford tried to get him back to the gallery after luncheon,
but a look from his wife intimated that Sponge was wanted
elsewhere, so he quietly saw him carried off to the music-room ;
and presently the notes of the " grand piano," and full clear voices
of his daughters, echoing along the passage, intimated that they
were trying what effect music would have upon him.
When Mrs. Jawleyford looked in about an hour after, she found
Mr. Sponge sitting over the fire with bis " Mogg " in his hand,
and the young ladies with their laps full of company-work, keeping
up a sort of cross-fire of conversation in the shape of question and
answer. Mrs. Jawleyford's company making matters worse, they
soon became tediously agreeable.
In course of time, Jawleyford entered the room, with —
" My dear Mr. Sponge, your groom has come up to know about
your horse to-morrow. I told him it was utterly impossible to
think of hunting, but he says he must have his orders from you.
102 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
I should say." added Jawleyford, " it is quite out of the question —
madness to think of it ; much better in the house, such weather."
"I don't know that," replied Sponge, "the rain's come down,
and though the country will ride heavy, I don't see why we
shouldn't have sport after it."
" But the glass is falling, and the wind's gone round the wrong
way ; the moon changed this morning — everything, in short, in-
dicates continued wet," replied Jawleyford. " The rivers are all
swollen, and the low grounds under water ; besides, my dear fellow,
consider the distance — consider the distance ; sixteen miles, if it's
a yard."
" What, Duntleton Tower ! " exclaimed Sponge, recollecting
that Jawleyford had said it was only ten the night before.
" Sixteen miles, and bad road," replied Jawleyford.
" The deuce it is ! " muttered Sponge ; adding, " Well, I'll go
and see my groom, at all events." So saying, he rang the bell as
if the house was his own, and desired Spigot to show him the way
to his servant.
Leather, of course, was in the servants'-hall, refreshing himself
with cold meat and ale, after his ride up from Lucksford.
Finding that he had ridden the hack up, he desired Leather to
leave him there. "Tell the groom I must have him put up,"
said Sponge ; " and you ride the chesnut on in the morning. How
far is it to Duntleton Tower ? " asked he.
" Twelve or thirteen miles, they say, from here," replied Leather ;
" nine or ten from Lucksford."
" Well, that'll do," said Sponge ; " you tell the groom here to
have the hack saddled for me at nine o'clock, and you ride Multum
in Parvo quietly on, either to the meet, or till I overtake you."
" But how am I to get back to Lucksford ? " asked Leather,
cocking up a foot to show how thinly he was shod.
" Oh, just as you can," replied Sponge ; " get the groom here to
sec you down with his master's hacks. I daresay they haven't
been out to-day, and it'll do them good."
So saying, Mr. Sponge left his valuable servant to do the best
he could for himself.
Having returned to the music-room, with the aid of an old
county map Mr. Sponge proceeded to trace his way to Duntleton
Tower ; aided, or rather retarded, by Mr. Jawleyford, who kept
pointing out all sorts of difficulties, till, if Mr. Sponge had fol-
lowed his advice, he would have made eighteen or twenty miles of
the distance. Sponge, however, being used to scramble about
strange countries, saw the place was to be accomplished in ten or
eleven. Jawleyford was sure he would lose himself, and Sponge
was equally confident that he wouldn't.
At length the glad sound of the gong put an end to all further
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 103
argument ; and the inmates of Jawleyford Court retired, candle in
hand, to their respective apartments, to adorn for a repetition of
the yesterday's spread, with the addition of the Rev. Mr. Hobanob's
company, to say grace, and praise the "Wintle."
An appetiteless dinner was succeeded by tea and music, as
before.
The three elegant French clocks in the drawing-room being at
variance, one being three-quarters of an hour before the slowest,
and twenty minutes before the next, Mr. Hobanob (much to the
horror of Jawleyford) having nearly fallen asleep with his Sevres
coffee-cup in his hand, at last drew up his great silver watch by its
jack-chain, and finding that it was a quarter past ten, prepared to
decamp — taking as affectionate a leave of the ladies as if he had
been going to China. He was followed by Mr. Jawleyford, to see
him pocket his pumps, and also by Mr. Sponge, to see what sort
of a night it was.
The sky was clear, stars sparkled in the firmament, and a young
crescent moon shone with silvery brightness o'er the scene.
" That'll do," said Sponge, as he eyed it ; "no haze there. Come,"
added he to his papa-in-law, as Hobanob's steps died out on the
terrace, " you'd better go to-morrow."
" Can't," replied Jawleyford ; " go next day, perhaps — Scram-
bleford Green — better place — much. You may lock up," said he,
turning to Spigot, who, with both footmen, was in attendance to
see Mr. Hobanob off ; " you may lock up, and tell the cook to
have breakfast ready at mne precisely."
" Oh, never mind about breakfast for me," interposed Sponge,
" I'll have some tea or coffee and chops, or boiled ham and eggs,
or whatever's going, in my bed-room," said he ; " so never mind
altering your hour for me."
" Oh, but my dear fellow, we'll all breakfast together" (Jawley-
ford had no notion of standing two breakfasts) " we'll all break-
fast together," said he ; " no trouble, I assure you — rather the con-
trary. Say half-past eight — half-past eight, Spigot ! to a minute,
mind."
And Sponge, seeing there was no help for it, bid the ladies good
night, and tumbled off to bed with little expectation of
punctuality.
104
MB. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TO UP,.
CHAPTER XX.
THE P. H. H.
NOR was Sponge wrong
in his conjecture, for
it was a quarter to
nine ere Spigot ap-
peared with the mas-
sive silver urn, fol-
BiiHfflffif^1 lowed hy the train_
hand bold, bearing
the heavy implements
of breakfast. Then,
though the young
ladies were punctual,
smiling, and affable
as usual, Mrs. Jaw-
ley ford was absent,
and she had the keys ;
so it was nearly nine
before Mr. Sponge
sfot his fork into his
first mutton chop.
Jawleyford was not
exactly pleased ; he
thought it didn't look
well for a young man
to prefer hunting to
the society of his lovely and accomplished daughters. Hunting
was all very well occasionally, but it did not do to make a business
of it. This, however, he kept to himself.
"You'll have a fine day, my dear Mr. Sponge," said he, ex-
tending a hand, as he found our friend brown-booted and red-
coated, working away at the breakfast.
" Yes," said Sponge, munching away for hard life. In less than
ten minutes, he managed to get as much down as, with the aid of
a knotch of bread that he pocketed, he thought would last him
through the day ; and, with a hasty adieu, he hurried off to find
the stables, to get his hack. The piebald was saddled, bridled,
and turned round in the stall ; for all servants that are worth any-
thing like to further hunting operations. With the aid of the
groom's instructions, who accompanied him out of the court-yard,
MR. ROBERT FOOZLE.
MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 105
Sponge was enabled to set off at a hard canter, cheered by the
groom's observation, that " he thought he would be there in time."
On, on he went ; now speculating on a turn ; now pulling a
scratch map he had made on a bit of paper out of his waistcoat-
pocket ; now inquiring the name of any place he saw of any per-
son he met. So he proceeded for five or six miles without much
difficulty ; the road, though not all turnpike, being mainly over
good sound township ones. It was at the village of Swineley, with
its chubby-towered church and miserable hut-like cottages, that his
troubles were to begin. He had two sharp turns to make — to ride
through a straw-yard, and leap over a broken-down wall at the
corner of a cottage — to get into Swaithing Green Lane, and so cut
off an angle of two miles. The road then became a bridle one,
and was, like all bridle ones, very plain to those who know them,
and very puzzling to those who don't. It was evidently a little-
frequented road ; and what with looking out for footmarks (now
nearly obliterated by the recent rains) and speculating on what
queer corners of the fields the gates would be in, Mr. Sponge
found it necessary to reduce his pace to a very moderate trot.
Still he had made good way ; and supposing they gave a quarter-
of-an-hour's law, and he had not been deceived as to distance, he
thought he should get to the meet about the time. His horse, too,
would be there, and perhaps Lord Scamperdale might give a little
extra law on that account. He then began speculating on what
sort of a man his lordship was, and the probable nature of his
reception. He began to wish that Jawleyford had accompanied
him, to introduce him. Not that Sponge was shy, but still he
thought that Jawleyford's presence would do him good.
Lord Scam perdale's hunt was not the most polished in the
world. The hounds and the horses were a good deal better bred
than the snen. Of course his lordship gave the tone to the whole ;
and being a coarse, broad, barge-built sort of man, he had his
clothes to correspond, and looked like a drayman in scarlet. He
wore a great round flat-brimmed hat, which being adopted by the
hunt generally, procured it the name of the " F. H. H.," or " Flat
Hat Hunt." Oar readers, we daresay, have noticed it figuring
away, in the list of hounds during the winter, along with the
H. H.'s, "V. W. H.'s" and other initialized packs. His lordship's
clothes Avere of the large, roomy, baggy, abundant order, with
great pockets, great buttons, and lots of strings flying out.
Instead of tops, he sported leather leggings, which at a distance
gave him the appearance of riding with his trousers up to his
knees. These the hunt too adopted ; and his " particular," Jack,
(Jack Spraggon) the man whom he mounted, and who was made
much in his own mould, sported, like his patron, a pair of
great broad-rimmed, tortoise-shell spectacles of considerable
106 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
power. Jack was always at his lordship's elbow ; and it was
" Jack " this, " Jack " that, " Jack " something, all day long.
But we must return to Mr. Sponge, whom we left working his
way through the intricate fields. At last he got through them,
and into Red Pool Common, which, by leaving the windmill to
the right, he cleared pretty cleverly, and entered upon a district
still wilder and drearier than any he had traversed. Pewits
screamed and hovered over land that seemed to grow little but
rushes and water-grasses, with occasional heather. The ground
poached and splashed as he went ; worst of all, time was nearly up.
In vain Sponge strained his eyes in search of Duntleton Tower.
In vain he fancied every high, sky-line-breaking place in the dis-
tance was the much wished-for spot. Duntleton Tower was no
more a tower than it was a town, and would seem to have been
christened by the rule of contrary, for it was nothing but a great
flat open space, without object or incident to note it.
Sponge, however, was not destined to see it.
As he went floundering along through an apparently intermin-
able and almost bottomless lane, whose sunken places and deep
ruts were filled with clayey water, which played the very deuce
with the cords and brown boots, the light note of a hound fell on
his ear, and almost at the same instant, a something that he would
have taken for a dog had it not been for the note of the hound,
turned as it were, from him, and went in a contrary direction.
Sponge reined in the piebald, and stood transfixed. It was,
indeed, the fox ! — a magnificent full-brushed fellow, with a slight
tendency to grey along the back, and going with the light spiry
ease of an animal full of strength and running.
" I wish I mayn't ketch it," said Sponge to himself, shuddering
at the idea of having headed him.
It was, however, no time for thinking. The cry of hounds
became more distinct— nearer and nearer they came, fuller and
more melodious ; but, alas ! it was no music to Sponge. Presently
the cheering of hunters was heard — '•' For— rard ! For — rard I ,T
and anon the rate of a whip further back. Another second, and
hounds, horses, and men were in view, streaming away over the
large pasture on the left.
There was a high, straggling fence between Sponge and the
field, thick enough to prevent their identifying him, but not
sufficiently high to screen him altogether. Sponge pulled round
the piebald, and gathered himself together like a man going to
be shot. The hounds came tearing full cry to where he was ;'
there was a breast-high scent, and every one seemed to have it.
They charged the fence at a wattled pace a few yards below where
he sat, and flying across the deep dirty lane, dashed full cry into
the pasture beyond.
Mil. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR. 107
" Hie back ! " cried Sponge. " Hie back ! " trying to turn them ;
but instead of the piebald carrying him in front of the pack, as
Sponge wanted, he took to rearing, and plunging, and pawing the
air. The hounds meanwhile dashed jealously on without a scent,
till first one and then another feeling ashamed, gave in ; and at
last a general lull succeeded the recent joyous cry. Awful period !
terrible to any one, but dreadful to a stranger ! Though Sponge
was in the road, he well knew that no one has any business any-
where but with hounds, when a fox is astir.
"Hold hard! " was now the cry, and the perspiring riders and
lathered steeds came to a stand-still.
" Twang — twang — twang" went a shrill horn ; and a couple of
whips, singling themselves out from the field, flew over the fence
to where the hounds were casting.
" Twang — twang — twang" went the horn again.
Meanwhile Sponge sat enjoying the following observations, which
a westerly wind wafted into his ear.
" Oh, d n me ! that man in the lane's headed the fox,"
puffed one.
" Who is it ? " gasped another.
" Tom Washball ! " exclaimed a third.
" Heads more foxes than any man in the country," puffed a
fourth.
" Always nicking and skirting," exclaimed a fifth.
" Never comes to the meet," added a sixth.
" Come on a cow to-day," observed another.
" Always chopping and changing," added another ; " he'll come
on a giraffe next."
Having commenced his career with the " F. H. H." so inaus-
piciously and yet escaped detection, Mr. Sponge thought of letting
Tom Washball enjoy the honours of his faux-pas, and of
sneaking quietly home as soon as the hounds hit off the scent ;
but unluckily, just as they were crossing the lane, what should
heave in sight, cantering along at his leisure, but the redoubtable
Multum in Parvo, who, having got rid of Old Leather by bumping
and thumping his leg against a gate-post, was enjoying a line of
his own.
" Whoay ! " cried Sponge, as he saw the horse quickening his
pace to have a shy at the hounds as they crossed. Who — o — a — y ! "
roared he, brandishing his whip, and trying to turn the piebald
round ; but no, the brute wouldn't answer the bit, and dreading
lest, in addition to heading the fox, he should kill "the best
hound in the pack," Mr. Sponge threw himself off, regardless of
the mud-bath in which he lit, and caught the runaway as he tried
to dart past.
" For-rard !—for-rard ! — for-rard ! " was again the cry, as
108 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
the hounds hit off the scent ; while the late pausing, panting
sportsmen tackled vigorously with their steeds, and swept onward
like the careering wind.
Mr. Sponge, albeit somewhat perplexed, had still sufficient
presence of mind to see the necessity of immediate action ; and
though he had so lately contemplated beating a retreat, the unex-
pected appearance of Parvo altered the state of affairs.
" Now or never," said he, looking first at the disappearing field,
and then for the non-appearing Leather. " Hang it ! I may as
well see the run," added he ; so hooking the piebald on to an old
stone gate-post that stood in the ragged fence, and lengthening a
stirrup-leather, he vaulted into the saddle, and began lengthening
the other as he went.
It was one of Parvo's going days ; indeed, it was that that Old
Leather and he had quarrelled about — Parvo wanting to follow the
hounds, while Leather wanted to wait for his master. And Parvo
had the knack of going, as well as the occasional inclination.
Although such a drayhorse-looking animal, he could throw the
ground behind him amazingly ; and the deep-holding clay in
which he now found himself was admirably suited to his short
powerful legs and enormous stride. The consequence was, that he
was very soon up with the hindmost horsemen. These he soon
passed, and was presently among those who ride hard when there
is nothing to stop them. Such time as these sportsmen could
now spare from looking out ahead was devoted to Sponge, whom
they eyed with the utmost astonishment, as if he had dropped
from the clouds.
A stranger — -a real out-and-out stranger — had not visited their
remote regions since the days of poor Nimrod. " Who could it
be ? " But " the pace," as Nimrod used to say, " was too good to
inquire." A little further on, and Sponge drew upon the great
guns of the hunt— the men who ride to hounds, and not after
them ; the same who had criticised him through the fence — Mr.
"Wake, Mr. Fossick, Parson Blossomnose, Mr. Fyle, Lord Scamper-
dale, Jack himself and others. Great was their astonishment at
the apparition, and incoherent the observations they dropped as
they galloped on.
" It isn't Wash, after all," whispered Fyle into Blossomnose's
car, as they rode through a gate together.
" No-o-o," replied the nose, eyeing Sponge intently.
" What a coat ! " whispered one.
" Jacket," replied the other.
" Lost his brush," observed a third, winking at Sponge's docked
tail.
" He's going to ride over us all," snapped Mr. Fossick, whom
Sponge passed at a hand-canter, as the former was blobbing
MM. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 109
and floundering about the deep ruts leading out of a turnip-
field.
" He'll catch it just now," said Mr. Wake, eyeing Sponge
drawing upon his lordship and Jack, as they led the field as usual.
Jack being at a respectful distance behind his great patron, espied
Sponge first ; and having taken a good stare at him through his
formidable spectacles, to satisfy himself that it was nobody he
knew — a stare that Sponge returned as well as a man without
spectacles can return the stare of one with — Jack spurred his
horse up to his lordship, and, rising in his stirrups, shot into his
car —
" Why, here's the man on the cow ! " adding, " It isn't Washey."
" Who the deuce is it, then ? " asked his lordship, looking over
his left shoulder, as he kept galloping on in the wake "of his
huntsman.
" Don't know," replied Jack ; " never saw him before."
" Nor I," said his lordship with an air, as much as to say, " It
makes no matter."
His lordship, though well mounted, was not exactly on the sort
of horse for the country they were in ; while Mr. Sponge, in
addition to being on the very animal for it, had the advantage of
the horse having gone the first part of the run without a rider: so
Multum in Parvo, whether Mr. Sponge wished it or not, insisted on
being as far forward as he could get. The more Sponge pulled and
hauled, the more determined the horse was ; till, having thrown
both Jack and his lordship in the rear, he made for old Frostyface,
the huntsman, who was riding well up to the still-flying pack.
" Hold hard, sir ! For God's sake, hold hard ! " screamed
Frosty, who knew by intuition there was a horse behind, as well
as he knew there was a man shooting in front, who, in all pro-
bability, had headed the fox.
" Hold hard, sir ! " roared he, as, yawning and boring and
shaking his head, Parvo dashed through the now yelping scattered
pack, making straight for a stiff new gate, which he smashed
through, just as a circus pony smashes through a paper hoop.
" Hoo-ray ! " shouted Jack Spraggon, on seeing the hounds
were safe. " Hoo-ray for the tailor ! "
" Billy Button, himself ! " exclaimed his lordship ; adding
" Never saw such a thing in my life ! "
" Who the deuce is he ? " asked Blossomnose, in the full glow
of pulling-five-year-old exertion.
" Don't know," replied Jack ; adding, " He's a shaver, whoever
he is."
Meanwhile the frightened hounds were scattered right and left.
" Fll lay a guinea he's one of those confounded writing chaps,"
observed Fyle, who had been handled rather roughly by one of the
110 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
tribe, who had dropped " quite promiscuously " upon a field where
he was, just as Sponge had done with Lord Scamperdale's.
" Shouldn't wonder," replied his lordship, eyeing Sponge's vain
endeavours to turn the chesnut, and thinking how he would
"pitch into him" when he came up. "By Jove," added his
lordship, "if the fellow had taken the whole country round, he
couldn't have chosen a worse spot for such an exploit ; for there
never is any scent over here. See! not a hound can own it. Old
Harmony herself throws up ! "
The whips again are in their places, turning the astonished pack
to Frostyface, who sets off on a casting expedition. The field, as
usual, sit looking on ; some blessing Sponge ; some wondering
who he was ; others looking what o'clock it is ; some dismounting
and looking at their horses' feet.
" Thank you, Mr. Brown Boots ! " exclaimed his lordship, as,
by dint of bitting and spurring, Sponge at length worked the
beast round, and came sneaking back in the face of the whole
field. " Thank you, Mister Brown Boots," repeated he, taking
off his hat, and bowing very low. " Very much obleged to you,
Mr. Brown Boots. Most particklarly obleged to you, Mr. Brown
Boots," with another low bow. " Hang'd obleged to you, Mr.
Brown Boots ! D n you, Mr. Brown Boots ! " continued his
lordship, looking at Sponge as if he would eat him.
" Beg pardon, sir," blurted Sponge ; " my horse "
" Hang your horse ! " screamed his lordship ; " it wasn't your
horse that headed the fox, was it ? "
" Beg pardon — couldn't help it ; I "
" Couldn't help it. Hang your helps — you're always doing it,
sir. You could stay at home, sir — I s'pose, sir — couldn't you, sir ?
eh, sir ? "
Sponge was silent.
" See, sir ! " continued his lordship, pointing to the mute pack
now following the huntsman, " you've lost us our fox, sir — yes,
sir, lost us our fox, sir. D'ye call that nothin', sir ? If you don't,
/ do, you perpendicular-looking Puseyite pig-jobber ! By Jove !
you think because I'm a lord, and can't swear, or use coarse
language, that you may do what you like — but I'll take my hounds
home, sir — yes, sir, I'll take my hounds home, sir." So saying,
his lordship roared home to Frostyface ; adding, in an undertone
to the first whip, " lid him go to Furzing-fieJd gorse"
MB. SPONGE'S SPOBTING TOUB.
Ill
CHAPTER XXL
A COUNTRY DINNER-PARTY.
MR. SPONGE AND THE MISSES JAWLEYFoRD.
" Well, what sport ? " asked Jawleyford, as he encountered
his exceedingly dirty friend crossing the entrance hall to his bed-
room on his return from his day, or rather his non-day, with the
" Flat Hat Hunt."
112 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
" Why, not much — that's to say, nothing particular — I mean,
I've not had any," blurted Sponge.
" But you've had a run ? " observed Jawleyford, pointing to his
boots and breeches, stained with the variation of each soil.
"Ah, I got most of that going to cover," replied Sponge ;
" country's awfully deep, roads abominably dirty ; " adding, " 1
wish I'd taken your advice, and stayed at home."
" I wish you had," replied Jawleyford, " you'd have had a most
excellent rabbit-pie for luncheon. However, get changed, and we
will hear all about it after." So saying, Jawleyford waved an
adieu, and Sponge stamped away in his dirty wafer-logged boots.
" I'm afraid you are very wet, Mr. Sponge," observed Amelia
in the sweetest tone, with the most loving smile possible, as our
friend, with three steps at a time, bounded up-stairs, and nearly
butted her on the landing, as she was on the point of coming
down.
" I am that," exclaimed Sponge, delighted at the greeting ; " I
am that," repeated he, slapping his much-stained cords ; " dirty,
too," added he, looking down at his nether man.
" Hadn't you better get changed as quick as possible ? " asked
Amelia, still keeping her position before him.
" Oh ! all in good time," replied Sponge, " all in good time.
The sight of you warms me more than a fire would do ; " adding,
" I declare you look quite bewitching, after all the roughings and
tumblings about out of doors."
" Oh ! you've not had a fall, have you ? " exclaimed Amelia,
looking the picture of despair ; " you've not had a fall, have you ?
Do send for the doctor, and be bled."
Just then a door along the passage to the left opened ; and
Amelia, knowing pretty well who it was, smiled and tripped away,
leaving Sponge to be bled or not as he thought proper.
Our hero then made for his bed-room, where, having sucked off
his adhesive boots, and divested himself of the rest of his hunting
attire, he wrapped himself up in his grey flannel dressing-gown, and
prepared for parboiling his legs and feet, amid agreeable anticipa-
tions arising out of the recent interview, and occasional references
to his old friend " Mogg," whenever he did not see his way on the
matrimonial road as clearly as he could wish. " She'll have me,
that's certain," observed he.
" Curse the water ! how hot it is ! " exclaimed he, catching his
foot up out of the bath, into which he had incautiously plunged it
without ascertaining the temperature of the water. He then
sluiced it with cold, and next had to add a little more hot ; at
last he got it to his mind, and lighting a cigar, prepared for un-
interrupted enjoyment.
"Gad!" said he, "she's by no means a bad-looking girl"
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 113
(whiff). " Devilish good-looking girl" (puff) ; " good head and neck,
and carries it well too " (puff)—" capital eye " (whiff), " bright and
clear " (puff) ; " no cataracts there. She's all good together "
(whiff, puff, whiff). " Nice size too," continued he, " and well set
up " (whiff, puff, whiff) ; " straight as a dairy maid " (puff) ;
" plenty of substance — grand thing substance " (puff). " Hate a
weedy woman — fifteen two and a half — that's to say, five feet four's
plenty of height for a woman " (puff). " Height of a woman hns
nothing to do with her size " (whiff). " Wish she hadn't run off"
(puff) ; " would like to have had a little more talk with her "
(whiff, puff). " "Women never look so well as when one comes in
wet and dirty from hunting " (puff). He then sank silently back
in the easy chair and whiffed and puffed all sorts of fantastic
clouds and columns and corkscrews at his leisure. The cigar being
finished, and the water in the foot-bath beginning to get cool, he
emptied the remainder of the hot into it, and lighting a fresh cigar,
began specidating on how the match was to be accomplished.
The lady was safe, that was clear ; he had nothing to do but
" pop." That he would do in the evening, or in the morning, or
any time — a man living in the house with a girl need never be in
want of an opportunity. That preliminary over, and the usual
answer "Ask papa" obtained, then came the question, how was
the old boy to be managed ? — for men with marriageable daughters
are to all intents and purposes " old boys ; " be their ages what
they may.
He became lost in reflection. He sat with his eyes fixed on the
Jawleyford portrait above the mantelpiece, wondering whether he
was the amiable, liberal, hearty, disinterested sort of man, he
appeared to be, indifferent about money, and only wanting un-
exceptionable young men for his daughters ; or if he was a worldly-
minded man, like some he had met, who, after giving him every
possible encouragement, sent him to the right about like a servant.
So Sponge smoked and thought, and thought and smoked, till, the
water in the foot-bath again getting cold, and the shades of night
drawing on, he at last started up like a man determined to awake
himself, and poking a match into the fire, lighted the candles on the
toilet-table, and proceeded to adorn himself. Having again got
himself into the killing tights and buckled pumps, with a fine
flower-fronted shirt, ere he embarked on the delicacies and
difficulties of the starcher, he stirred the little pittance of a fire,
and folding himself in his dressing-gown, endeavoured to prepare
his mind for the calm consideration of all the minute bearings of
the question by a little more Mogg. In idea he transferred him-
self to London, now fancying himself standing at the end of
Burlington Arcade, hailing a Fulham or Turnham Green 'bus ;
now wrangling with a conductor for charging him sixpence when
i
114 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
there was a pennant flapping at his nose with the words " All the
way 3d." upon it ; now folding the wooden doors of a Hansom cab
in Oxford-street, calculating the extreme distance he could go for
an eightpenny fare : until at last he fell into a downright vacant
sort of reading, without rhyme or reason, just as one sometimes
takes a read of a directory or a dictionary — "Conduit-street,
George-street, to or from the Adelphi-terrace, Astley's Amphi-
theatre, Baker-street, King-street, Bryan ston-square any part,
Covent Garden Theatre, Foundling Hospital, Hatton Garden " and
f o on, till the thunder of the gong aroused him to a recollection of
his duties. He then up and at his neckcloth.
"Ah, well," said he, reverting to his lady love, as he eyed him-
self intently in the glass while performing the critical operation,
*' I'll just sound the old gentleman after dinner — one can do that
sort of thing better over one's wine, perhaps, than at any other
time : looks less formal too," added he, giving the cravat a know-
ing crease at the side ; " and if it doesn't seem to take, one can
just pass it off as if it was done for somebody else — some young
gentleman at Laverick Wells, for instance."
So saying, he on with his white waistcoat, and crowned the
conquering suit with a blue coat and metal buttons. Returning
his "Mogg" to his dressing-gown pocket, he blew out the candles,
and groped his way downstairs in the dark.
In passing the dining-room he looked in (to see if there were
any champagne-glasses set, we believe), when he saw that he should
not have an opportunity of sounding his intended papa-in-law
after dinner, for he found the table laid for twelve, and a great
display of plate, linen, and china.
He then swaggered on to the drawing-room, which was in a blaze
of light. The lively Emily had stolen a march on her sister, and
had just entered, attired in a fine new pale yellow silk dress with
a point-lace berthe and other adornments.
' High words had ensued between the sisters as to the meanness
of Amelia in trying to take her beau from her, especially after the
airs Amelia had given herself respecting Sponge : and a minute
observer might have seen the slight tinge of red on Emily's eyelids
denoting the usual issue of such scenes. The result was, that each
determined to do the best she could for herself ; and free trade
being proclaimed, Emily proceeded to dress with all expedition,
calculating that, as Mr. Sponge had come in wet, he would, very
likely dress at once and appear in the drawing-room in good time.
Nor was she out in her reckoning, for see had hardly enjoyed an
approving glance in the mirror ere our hero came swaggering in,
twiching his arms as if he hadn't got his wristbands adjusted and
working his legs as if they didn't belong to him.
" Ah, my dear Miss Emley ! " exclaimed he, advancing gaily
MR. SPONGE'S SFORTIXG TOUR. 113
towards her with extended hand, which she took with all the
pleasure in the world ; adding, " And how have you heen ? "
" Oh, pretty well, thank you,1' replied she, looking as though
she would have said, " As well as I can be without you."
Sponge, though a consummate judge of a horse, and all the
minutiae connected with them, was still rather green in the matter
of woman ; and having settled in his own mind that Amelia should
be his choice, he concluded that Emily knew all about it, and was
working on her sister's account, instead of doing the agreeable for
herself. And there it is where elder sisters have such an advan-
tage over younger ones. They arc always shown, or contrive to
show themselves, first ; and if a man once makes up his mind that
the elder one will do, there is an end of the matter ; and it is
neither a deeper shade or two of blue, nor a brighter tinge of
brown, nor a little smaller foot, nor a more elegant waist, that
will make him change for a younger sister. The younger ones
immediately become sisters in the men's minds, and retire, or arc
retired, from the field — "scratched," as Sponge would say.
Amelia, however, was not going to give Emily a chance ; for,
having dressed with all the expedition compatible with an attractive
toilet — a lavender-coloured satin with broad black lace flounces,
and some heavy jewellery on her well-turned arms, she came sidling
in so gently as almost to catch Emily in the act of playing the
agreeable. Turning the sidle into a stately sail, with a haughty
sort of sneer and toss of the head to her sister, as much as to say,
"What arc you doing with my man ? " — a sneer that suddenly
changed into a sweet smile as her eye encountered Sponge's — she
just motioned him off to a sofa, where she commenced a soito voce
conversation in the engaged-couple style.
The plot then began to thicken. First came Jawleyford, in a
terrible stew.
"Well, this is too bad ! " exclaimed he, stamping and flourish-
ing a scented note, with a crest and initials at the top. "This is
too bad," repeated he ; " people accepting invitations, and then
crying off at the last moment."
" Who is it can't come, papa — the Foozles ? " asked Emily.
" No — Foozles be hanged," sneered Jawleyford ; " they always
come — the Blossomnoscs ! " replied he, with an emphasis.
" The Blossomnoses ! " exclaimed both girls, clasping their
hands and looking up at the ceiling.
" What, all of them ? " asked Emily.
" All of them,'''' rejoined Jawleyford.
" Why, that's four," observed Emily.
"To be sure it is," replied Jawleyford; "live, if you count
them by appetites ; for old Blossom always eats and drinks as
much as two people."
I 2
11G MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
" What excuse do they give ? " asked Amelia.
" Carriage-horse taken suddenly ill," replied Jawleyford ; " as if
that's any excuse when there are post-horses within half-a-dozen
miles."
"He wouldn't have been stopped hunting for want of a horse,
I dare say," observed Amelia.
" I dare say it's all a lie," observed Jawleyford ; adding, " how-
ever, the invitation shall go for a dinner, all the same."
The denunciation was interrupted by the appearance of Spigot,
who came looming up the spacious drawing-room in the full
magnificence of black shorts, silk stockings, and buckled pumps,
followed by a sheepish-looking, straight-haired, red apple-faced
young gentlemen, whom he announced as Mr. Robert Foozle.
Robert was the hope of the house of Foozle ; and it was fortunate
his parents were satisfied with him, for few other people were. He
was a young gentleman who shook hands with everybody, assented
to anything that anybody said, and in answering a question,
where indeed his conversation chiefly consisted, he always followed
the words of the interrogation as much as he could. For instance :
" Well, Eobert, have you been at Dulvcrton to-day?" Answer,
"No, I've not been at Dulverton to-day." Question, "Are you
going to Dulverton to-morrow?" xYnswer, "No, I'm not going
to Dulverton, to-morrow." Having shaken hands with the party
all round, and turned to the fire to warm his red fists, Jawleyford
having stood at "attention" for such time as he thought Mrs.
Foozle would be occupied before the glass in his study arranging
her head-gear, and seeing no symptoms of any further announce-
ment, at last asked Foozle if his papa and mamma were not coming.
" No, my papa and mamma are not coming," replied he.
"Are you sure ?" asked Jawleyford, in a tone of excitement.
" Quite sure," replied Foozle, in the most matter-of-course voice.
" The deuce !" exclaimed Jawleyford, stamping his foot upon
the soft rug ; adding, " It never rains but it pours ! "
" Have you any note, or anything ? " asked Mrs. Jawleyford,
who had followed Robert Foozle into the room.
" Yes, I have a note," replied he, diving into the inner pocket
of his coat, and producing one.
The note was a letter — a letter from Mrs. Foozle to Mrs.
Jawleyford, three sides and crossed ; and seeing the magnitude
thereof, Mrs. Jawleyford quietly put it into her reticule, observ-
ing, " that she hoped Mr. and Mrs. Foozle were well ? "
" Yes, they are well," replied Robert, notwithstanding he had
express orders to say that his papa had the tooth-ache, and his
mamma the car-ache.
Jawleyford then gave a furious ring at the bell for dinner, and
in due course of time the party of six proceeded to a table for
MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 117
twelve. Sponge pawned Mrs. Jawlcyford off upon Robert Foozle,
which gave Sponge the right to the fair Amelia, who walked off
on his arm with a toss of her head at Emily, as though she
thought him the finest, sprightiiest man under the sun. Emily
followed, and Jawlcyford came sulking in alone, sore put out at
the failure of what he meant for the grand entertainment.
Lights blazed in profusion ; lamps more accustomed had now
become better behaved ; and the whole strength of the plate was
called in requisition, sadly puzzling the unfortunate cook to find
something to put upon the dishes. She, however, was a real
magnanimous-minded woman, who would undertake to cook a
lord mayor's feast — soups, sweets, joints, entrees, and all.
Jawleyford was nearly silent during the dinner ; indeed, he was
too far off for conversation, had there been any for him to join
in ; which was not the case, for Amelia and Sponge kept up a
hum of words, while Emily worked Eobert Foozle with question
and answer, such as
" Were your sisters out to-day ?"
" Yes, my sisters were out to-day."
"Are your sisters going to the Christmas hall ? "
" Yes, my sisters are coing to the Christmas ball," &c, &c.
Still, nearly daft as Eobert was, ho was generally asked where
there was anything going on ; and more than one young la — but
we will not tell about that, as he has nothing to do with our story.
By the time the ladies took their departure, Mr. Jawleyford
had somewhat recovered from the annoyance of his disappointment ;
and as they retired he rang the bell, and desired Spigot to set in
the horse-shoe table, and bring a bottle of the " green seal," being
the colour affixed on the bottles of a four-dozen hamper of port
(" curious old port at 485.") that had arrived from " Wintle and
Co." by rail (goods train of course) that morning.
" There / " exclaimed Jawleyford, as Spigot placed the richly-
cut decanter on the horse-shoe table. " There ! " repeated he, draw-
ing the green curtain as if to shade it from the fire, but in reality
to hide the dulness the recent shaking had given it ; " that wine,"
said he, "is a quarter of a century in bottle, at the very least."
" Indeed," observed Sponge : " time it was drunk."
" A quarter of a century ? " gaped Robert Foozle.
" Quarter of a century if it's a day," replied Jawleyford, smack-
ing his lips as he set down his glass after imbibing the precious
beverage.
"Very fine," observed Sponge; adding, as he sipped off his
glass, " it's odd to find such old wine so full-bodied."
"Well, now tell us all about, your day's proceedings," said
Jawleyford, thinking it advisableHo change the conversation at
once. " What sport had you with my lord ? "
US MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
" Oh, "why, I really can't tell you much," drawled Sponge, with
an air of bewilderment. " Strange country — strange faces —
nobody I knew, and "
"Ah, true," replied Jawlcyford, "true. It occurred to mc
after you were gone, that perhaps you might not know any one.
Ours, you see, is rather an out-of-the-way country ; few of our
people go to town, or indeed anywhere else ; they are all tarry-at-
home birds. But they'd receive you with great politeness, I'm
sure — if they knew you came from here, at least," added he.
Sponge was silent, and took a great gulp of the dull " Wintle,"
to save himself from answering.
" Was my Lord Scamperdale out ? " asked Jawleyford, seeing he
was not going to get a reply.
"Why, I can really hardly tell you that," replied Sponge.
" There were two men out, cither of whom might be him ; at least,
they both seemed to take the lead, and — and — " he was going to
say " blow up the people," but he thought he might as well keep
that to himself.
" Stout, hale-looking men, dressed much alike, with great broad
tortoise-shell-rimmed spectacles on ? " asked Jawleyford.
"Just so," replied Sponge.
"Ah, you are right, then," rejoined Jawlcyford; "it would be
my lord."
"And who was the other ?" inquired our friend.
" Oh, that Jack Spraggon," replied Jawleyford, curling up his
nose, as if he was going to be sick ; " one of the most odious
wretches under the sun. I really don't know any man that I have
so great a dislike to, so utter a contempt for, as that Jack, as they
call him."
" "What is he ? " asked Sponge.
" Oh, just a hanger-on of his lordship's : the creature has
nothing — nothing whatever ; he lives on my lord — eats his venison,
drinks his claret, rides his horses, bullies those his lordship doesn't
like to tackle with, and makes himself generally useful."
" He seems a man of that sort," observed Sponge, as he thought
over the compliments he had received.
" "Well, who else had you out, then ? " asked Jawleyford.
" Was Tom Washball there ? "
" No," replied Sponge : " he wasn't out, I know."
"Ah, that's unfortunate," observed Jawleyford, helping himself
and passing the bottle. " Tom's a capital fellow — a perfect
gentleman — great friend of mine. If he'd been out you'd have
had nothing to do but mention my name, and he'd have put
you all right in a minute. Who else was there, then ?" con-
tinued he.
"There was a tall man in black, on a good-looking young
MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUE. 119
brown horse, rather rash at his fences, but a fine style of
goer."
" What ! " exclaimed Jawleyford, " a man in drab cords and
jack-boots, with the brim of his hat rather turning upwards ? "
"Just so," replied Sponge; "and a double ribbon for a hat-
strinfr."
" That's Master Blossomnosc," observed Jawleyford, scarcely
able to contain his indignation. " That's Master Blossomnosc,"
repeated he, taking a back hand at the port in the excitement of
the moment. "More to his credit if he were to stay at home
and attend to his parish," added Jawleyford ; meaning, it would
have been more to his credit if he had fulfilled his engagement to
him that evening, instead of going out hunting in the morning.
The two then sat silent for a time, Sponge seeing where the sore
place was, and Robert Foozle, as usual, seeing nothing.
"Ah, well," observed Jawleyford, at length breaking silence,
" it Avas unfortunate you went this morning. I did my best to
prevent you — told you what a long way it was, and so on. How-
ever, never mind, we will put all right to-morrow. His lordship,
I'm sure, will be most happy to see you. So help yourself,"
continued he, passing the " AYintlc," " and we will drink his health,
and success to fox-hunting."
Sponge filled a bumper and drank his lordship's health, with
the accompaniment as desired ; and turning to Robert Foozle,
who was doing likewise, said, "Are you fond of hunting ?"
"Yes, I'm fond of hunting," replied Foozle.
" But you don't hunt, you know, Robert," observed Jawleyford.
" No, I don't hunt," replied Robert.
The " green seal " being demolished, Jawleyford ordered a bottle
of the " other," attributing the slight discoloration (which he did
not discover until they had nearly finished the bottle) to change of
atmosphere in the outer cellar. Sponge tackled vigorously with
the new-comer, which was better than the first ; and Robert
Foozle, drinking as he spoke, by pattern, kept filling away, much
to Jawleyford's dissatisfaction, who was compelled to order a
third. During the progress of its demolition, the host's tongue
became considerably loosened. He talked of hunting and the
charms of the chase — of the good fellowship it produced ; and
expatiated on the advantages it was of to the country in a national
point of view, promoting as it did a spirit of manly enterprise, and
encouraging our unrivalled breed of horses ; both of which he
looked opon as national objects, well Avortby the attention of
enlightened men like himself.
Jawleyford was a great patron of the chase ; and his keeper,
Watson, always had a bag-fox ready to turn down when my lord's
hounds met there. Jawleyford's covers were never known to be
120 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
drawn blank. Though they had been shot in the day before, they
always held a fox the next — if a fox was wanted.
Sponge being quite at home on the subject of horses and
hunting, lauded all his papa-in-law's observations up to the skies ;
occasionally considering whether it would be advisable to sell him
a horse, and thinking, if he did, whether he should let him have
one of the three he had down, or should get old Buckram to buy
some quiet screw that would stand a little work and yield him
(Sponge) a little profit, and yet not demolish the great patron of
English sports. The more Jawleyford drank, the more energetic
he became, and the greater pleasure he anticipated from the meet
of the morrow. He docked the lord, and spoke of "Scamperdale"
as an excellent fellow — a real, good, hearty, honest Englishman —
a man that " the more you knew the more you liked ; " all of
which was very encouraging to Sponge. Spigot at length
-appeared to read the tea and coffee riot-act, when Jawleyford,
determined not to be done out of another bottle pointing to the
nearly-emptied decanter, said to Robert Foozle, " I suppose you'll
not take any more wine ? " To which Robert replied, " No, I'll
not take any more wine." Whereupon, pushing out his chair and
throwing away his napkin, Jawleyford arose and led the way to
the drawing-room, followed by Sponge and this entertaining young
gentleman.
A round game followed tea ; which, in its turn, was succeeded
by a massive silver tray, chiefly decorated with cold water and
tumblers ; and as the various independent clocks in the drawing-
room began chiming and striking eleven, Mr. Jawleyford thought
he would try to get rid of Foozle by asking him if he hadn't better
stay all night.
"Yes, I think I'd better stay all night," replied Foozle.
" But won't they be expecting you at home, Robert ? " asked
Jawleyford, not feeling disposed to be caught in his own trap.
" Yes, they'll be expecting me at home," replied Foozle.
'• Then, perhaps, you had better not alarm them by staying,"
suggested Jawleyford.
" No, perhaps I'd better not alarm them by staying," repeated
Foozle. Whereupon they all rose, and wishing him a very good
night, Jawleyford handed him over to Spigot, who transferred him
to one footman, who passed him to another, to button into his
leather-headed shandridan.
After talking Robert over, and expatiating on the misfortune it
would be to have such a boy, Jawleyford rang the bell for the
banquet of water to be taken away ; and ordering breakfast half-
an-hour earlier than usual, our friends went to bed.
Mil. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 121
CHAPTER XXII.
THE F. H. H. AGAIN.
A^V^7Vr^
JAWI. i:\FOBD GOING TO THE HUNT.
Gentlemen unaccustomed to public hunting often make queer
figures of themselves when they go out. We have seeu them in
all sorts of odd dresses, half fox-hunters, half fishermen, half fox-
hunters half sailors, with now and then a good sturdy cross of the
farmer
Mr. Jawlevford was a cross between a military dandy and a
L22 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
squire. The grecn-and-gold Bumperkin foraging-cap, with the
letters " B. Y. C," in front, was cocked jauntily on one side of
his badger-pyed head, while he played sportively with the patent
leather strap — now toying with it on his lip, now dropping it
below his chin, now hitching it up on to the peak. He had a
tremendously stiff stock on — so hard that no pressure made it
wrinkle, and so high that his pointed gills could hardly peer
above it. His coat was a bright green cut-away — made when
collars were worn very high and very hollow, and when waists
were supposed to be about the middle of a man's back, Jawley-
ford's back buttons occupying that remarkable position. These,
which were of dead gold with a bright rim, represented a hare full
stretch for her life, and were the buttons of the old Muggeridge
hunt — a hunt that had died many years ago from want of the neces-
sary funds (80/.) to carry it on. The coat, which was single-
breasted and velvet - collared, was extremely swallow - tailed,
presenting a remarkable contrast to the barge-built, roomy round-
abouts of the members of the Flat Hat Hunt ; the collar rising
behind, in the shape of a Gothic arch, exhibited all the stitchings
and threadings incident to that department of the garment.
But if Mr. Jawleyford's coat went to " hare," his waistcoat was
fox and all " fox." On a bright blue ground he sported such an
infinity of " heads," that there is no saying that he would have
been safe in a kennel of unsteady hounds. One thing, to be sure,
was in his favour— namely, that they were just as much like cats'
heads as foxes'. The coat and waistcoat were old stagers, but his
nether man was encased in rhubarb-coloured tweed pantaloons of
the newest make — a species of material extremely soft and com-
fortable to wear, but not so well adapted for roughing it across
country. These had a broad brown stripe down the sides, and
were shaped out over the foot of his fine French-polished paper
boots, the heels of which were decorated with long-necked, ringing
spurs. Thus attired, with a little silver-mounted whip which he
kept flourishing about, he encountered Mr. Sponge in the entrance-
hall, after breakfast. Mr. Sponge, like all men who arc
" extremely natty " themselves, men who wouldn't have a button
out of place if it was ever so, hardly knew what to think of Jaw-
leyford's costume. It was clear he was no sportsman ; and then
came the question, whether he was of the privileged few who may
do what they like, and who can carry off any kind of absurdity.
Whatever uneasiness Sponge felt on that score, Jawleyford, how-
ever, was quite at his ease, and swaggered about like an aide-de-
camp at a review.
" Well, we should be going, I suppose," said he, drawing on a
pair of half-dirty, lemon-coloured kid gloves, and sabreing the air
with his whip.
Mn. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR. 123
" Is Lord Scamperdalc punctual ? " asked Sponge.
"Tol-lol," replied Jaw ley ford, "tol-lol."
" He'll wait for you, I suppose ? " observed Sponge, thinking to
try Jawlcyford on that infallible criterion of favour.
" Why, if he knew I was coming, I dare say he would," replied
Jawleyford slowly and deliberately, feeling it was now no time
for flashing. " If he knew I was coming I dare say he would,"
repeated he ; " indeed, I make no doubt he would : but one
doesn't like putting great men out of their way ; besides which,
it's just as easy to be punctual as otherwise. When I was in the
Bumperkin — "
" But your horse is on, isn't it ? " interrupted Sponge ; " he'll
see your horse there, you know."
"Horse on, my dear fellow!" exclaimed Jawlcyford, "horse
on ? No, certainly not. How should I get there myself, if my
horse was on ? "
" Hack, to be sure," replied Sponge, striking a light for his
cigar.
" Ah, but then I should have no groom to go with me,"
observed Jawlcyford ; adding, " one must make a certain appear-
ance, you know. But come, my dear Mr. Sponge," continued he,
laying hold of our hero's arm, " let us get to the door, for that
cigar of yours will fumigate the whole house ; and Mrs. Jawleyford
hates the smell of tobacco."
Spigot, with his attendants in livery? here put a stop to the
confab by hurrying past, drawing the bolts, and throwing back
the spacious folding doors, as if royalty or Daniel Lambert himself
were " coming out."
The noise they made was heard outside ; and on reaching the
top of the spacious flight of steps, Sponge's piebald in charge of a
dirty village lad, and Jawleyford's steeds with a sky-blue groom,
were seen scuttling under the portico, for the owners to mount.
The Jawleyford cavalry was none of the best ; but Jawleyford
was pleased with it, and that is a great thing. Indeed, a thing
had only to be Jawleyford's, to make Jawlcyford excessively fond
of it.
"There !" exclaimed he, as they reached the third step from the
bottom. "There!" repeated he, seizing Sponge by the arm,
" that's what I call shape. You don't see such an animal as that
every day," pointing to a not badly-formed, but evidently worn-
out, ovcr-knee'd bay, that stood knuckling and trembling for
Jawleyford to mouut.
" One of the 'has boons,' I should say," replied Sponge, puffing
a cloud of smoke right past Jawleyford's nose ; adding, " It's a
pity but you could get him four new legs."
" Faith, I don't see that ho wants anything of the sort,"
124 31 B. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
retorted Jawleyford, nettled as well at the smoke as the observa-
tion.
"Well, where 'ignorance is bliss,' &c," replied Sponge, with
another great puff, which nearly blinded Jawleyford. " Get on,
and let's see how he goes," added he, passing on to the piebald as
he spoke.
Mr. Jawleyford then mounted ; and having settled himself into
a military scat, touched the old screw with the spur, and set off at
a canter. The piebald, perhaps mistaking the portico for a booth,
and thinking it was a good place to exhibit in, proceeded to die in
the most approved form ; and not all Sponge's " Come-up's " or
kicks could induce him to rise before he had gone through the
whole ceremony. At length, with a mane full of gravel, a side
well smeared, and a " Wilkinson & Kidd " sadly scratched, the
ci-devant actor arose, much to the relief of the village lad, who
having indulged in a gallop as he brought him from Lucksford,
expected his death would be laid to his door. No sooner was he
up, than, without waiting for him to shake himself, Mr. Soapey
vaulted into the saddle, and seizing him by the head, let in the
Latchfords in a style that satisfied the hack he was not going to
canter in a circle. Away he went, best pace ; for like all Mr.
Sponge's horses, he had the knack of going, the general difficulty
being to get them to go the way they were wanted.
Sponge presently overtook Mr. Jawleyford, who had been
brought up by a gate, which he was making sundry ineffectual
Eriggs-like passes and efforts to open ; the gate and his horse seem-
ing to have combined to prevent his getting through. Though
an expert swordsman, he had never been able to accomplish,
the art of opening a gate, especially one of those gingerly-balanced
spriug-sneckccl things that require to be taken at the nick of time,
or else they drop just as the horse gets his nose to them.
" Why arn't you here to open the gate ? " asked Jawleyford,
snappishly, as the blue boy bustled up as his master's efforts
became more hopeless at each attempt.
The lad, like a wise fellow, dropped from his horse, and opening
it with his hands, ran it back on foot.
Jawleyford and Sponge then rode through.
Canter, canter, canter, went Jawleyford, with an arm a-kimbo,
head well up, legs well down, toes well pointed, as if he were going
to a race, where his work would end on arriving, instead of to a
fox-hunt, where it would only begin.
" You arc rather hard on the old nag, arn't you ? " at length
asked Sponge, as, having cleared the rushy, swampy park, they
came upon the macadamised turnpike, and Jawleyford selected the
middle of it as the scene of his further progression.
" Oh no ! " replied Jawleyford, tit-tup-ing along with a loose
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 125
rein, as if he was on the soundest, freshest-legged horse in the
world ; " oh no ! my horses are used to it."
"Well, hut if jou mean to hunt him," observed Sponge, " he'll
be blown before he gets to cover."
" Get him in wind, my dear follow," replied Jawleyford, "get
him in wind," touching the horse with the spur as he spoke.
" Faith, but if he was as well on his legs as he is in his wind,
he'd not be amiss," rejoined Sponge.
So they cantered and trotted, and trotted and cantered away,
Sponge thinking he could afford pace as well as Jawleyford.
Indeed, a horse has only to become a hack, to be able to do double
the work he was ever supposed to be capable of.
But to the meet.
Scrambleford Green was a small straggling village on the top of
a somewhat high hill, that divided the vale in which Jawleyford
Court was situated, from the more fertile one of Farthinghoe, in
which Lord Scamperdale lived.
It was one of those out-of-the-way places at which the meet of
the hounds, and a love feast or fair, consisting of two fiddlers (one
for each public-house), a few unlicensed packmen, three or four
gingerbread stalls, a drove of cows and some sheep, form the great
events of the year, among a people who are thoroughly happy and
contented with that amount of gaiety. Think of that, you " used
up " young gentlemen of twenty, who have exhausted the pleasures
of the world ! The hounds did not come to Scrambleford Green
often, for it was not a favourite meet ; and when they did come,
Frosty and the men generally had them pretty much to themselves.
This day, however, was the exception ; and Old Tom Yarnley,
whom age had bent nearly double, and who hobbled along on two
sticks, declared, that never in the course of his recollection, a
period extending over the best part of a century, had he seen such a
*' sight of red coats " as mustered that morning at Scrambleford
Green. It seemed as if there had been a sudden rising of sports-
men. What brought them all out ? What brought Mr. Puffington,
the master of the Hanby hounds, out ? What brought Blossom-
nose again ? What Mr. Wake, Mr. Fossick, Mr. Fyle, who had
all been out the day before ?
Reader, the news had spread throughout the country that there
was a great writer down ; and they wanted to see what he would
say of them — they had come to sit for their portraits, in fact.
There was a great gathering, at least for the Flat Hat Hunt, who
seldom mustered above a dozen. Tom Washball came, in a fine
new coat and new flat-fliped hat with a broad binding ; also Mr.
Sparks, of Spark Hall ; Major Mark ; Mr. Archer, of Cheam
Lodge ; Mr. Reeves, of Coxwell Green ; Mr. Bliss, of Boltonshaw ;
Mr. Joyce, of Ebstone ; Dr. Capon, of Calcot ; Mr. Dribble, of
12Q Mil. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR.
Hook ; Mr. Slatle, of Thrcc-Lurrow Hill ; and several others.
Great was the astonishment of each as the other cast up.
" Why, here's Joe Reeves ! " exclaimed Blossomnosc. " Who'd
have thought of seeing you ? "
"And who'd, have thought of seeing you?" rejoined Reeves,
shaking hands with the jolly old nose.
" Here's Tom AVashball in time for once, I declare ! " exclaimed
Mr. Fylc, as Mr. Washball cantered up in apple-pie order.
" Wonders will never cease ! " observed Fossick, looking Washy
over.
So the field sat in a ring about the hounds, in the centre of
which, as usual, were Jack and Lord Scamperdale, looking with
their great tortoise-shell-rimmed spectacles, and short grey whiskers
trimmed in a curve up to their noses, like a couple of horned owls
in hats.
" Here's the man on the cow ! " exclaimed Jack, as he espied
Sponge and Jawleyford rising the hill together, easing their horses
by standing in their stirrups and holding on by their manes.
" Yon don't say so ! " exclaimed Lord Scamperdale, turning his
horse in the direction Jack was looking, and staring for hard life
too. "So there is, I declare!" observed he. "And who the
deuce is this with him ? "
" That ass Jawleyford, as I live ! " exclaimed Jack, as the blue-
coated servant now hove in sight.
" So it is!" said Lord Scamperdale ; "the confounded IvumibxigV
" This boy'll be after one of the young ladies," observed Jack ;
" not one of the writing chaps we thought he was."
" Shouldn't wonder," replied Lord Scamperdale ; adding, in an
under tone, " I vote we have a rise out of old Jaw. I'll let you in
for a good thing — you shall dim with him."
" Not I," replied Jack.
" You shall, though," replied his lordship, firmly.
" Pray don't ! " entreated Jack.
"By the powers, if you don't," rejoined his lordship, "you
shall not have a mount out of me for a month."
Wlnle this conversation was going on, Jawleyford and Sponge
having risen the hill, had resumed their seats in the saddle, and
Jawleyford, setting himself in attitude, tickled his horse with his
spur, and proceeded to canter becomingly up to the pack ; Sponge
and the groom following a little behind.
" Ah, Jawleyford, my dear fellow !" exclaimed Lord Scamperdale,
putting his horse on a few steps to meet him as he came
flourishing up ; " Ah, Jawleyford, my dear fellow, I'm delighted
to see you," extending a hand as he spoke. " Jack, here, told me
that he saw your flag flying as he passed, and I said what a pity
it was but I'd known before ; for Jawleyford, said I, is a real good
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 127
fellow, one of the lest fellows I know, and has asked rac to dine so
often that I'm almost ashamed to meet him ; and it would have
been such a nice opportunity to have volunteered a visit, the
hounds being here, you see."
" Oh, that's so kind of your lordship ! " exclaimed Jawleyford,
quite delighted — " that's so kind of your lordship — that's just's
what I like ! — that's just what Mrs. Jawleyford likes ! — that's
just what we all like ! — coming without fuss or ceremony, just as
my friend Mr. Sponge, here, does. By-thc-way, will your lordship
give me leave to introduce my friend Mr. Sponge — my Lord
Scamperdale." Jawleyford suiting the action to the word, and
manoeuvring the ceremony.
" Ah, I made Mr. Sponge's acquaintance yesterday," observed
his lordship drily, giving a sort of servants' touch of his hat as he
scrutinised our friend through his formidable glasses ; adding —
" To tell you the truth," addressing himself in an under tone to
Sponge, " I took you for one of those nasty writing chaps, who I
'bominate. But," continued his lordship, returning to Jawley-
ford, " I'll tell you what I said about the dinner. Jack, here,
told me the flag was flying ; and I said I only wish'd I'd known
before, and I would certainly have proposed that Jack and I
should dine with you, either to-day or to-morrow ; but unfor-
tunately I'd engaged myself to my Lord Barker's not five minutes
before."
" Ah, my lord ! " exclaimed Jawleyford, throwing out his hand
and shrugging his shoulders as if in despair, " you tantalise me —
you do indeed. You should have come, or said nothing about it.
You distress me — you do indeed."
" "Well, I'm wrong, perhaps," replied his lordship, patting
Jawleyford encouragingly on the shoulder ; " but however, I'll
tell you what," said he, " Jack here's not engaged, and he shall
come to you."
" Most happy to sec Mr. — ha — hum — haw — Jack — that's to
say, Mr. Spraggon," replied Jawleyford, bowing very low, and
laying his hand on his heart, as if quite overpowered at the idea
of the honour.
" Then, that's a bargain, Jack," said his lordship, looking
knowingly round at his much disconcerted friend ; "you dine and
stay all night at Jawleyford Court to-morrow ! and mind,'1'' added
he, " make yourself 'greeable to the girls, — ladies that's to say."
" Couldn't your lordship arrange it so that we might have the
pleasure of seeing you both on some future day ? " asked Jawley-
ford, anxious to avert the Jack calamity. " Say next week,"
continued he ; " or suppose you meet at the Court ? "
" Ha — ho — hum. Meet at the Court," mumbled his lordship —
" meet at the Court — Iia—ho—ha—hum — no ; — got no foxes."
128 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
" Plenty of foxes, I assure you, my lord ! " exclaimed Jawleyford.
" Plenty of foxes ! " repeated he.
" We never find them, then, somehow," observed his lordship,
drily ; " at least none but those three-legged beggars in the laurels
at the back of the stables."
" Ah ! that will be the fault of the hounds," replied Jawley-
ford ; "they don't take sufficient time to draw — run through the
covers too quickly."
" Fault of the hounds be hanged ! " exclaimed Jack, who was
the champion of the pack generally. " There's not a more patient,
painstaking pack in the world than his lordship's."
" Ah — well — ah — never mind that," replied his lordship, " Jaw
and you can settle that point over your wine to-morrow ; mean-
while, if your friend Mr. What's-his-name here, '11 get his horse,"
continued his lordship, addressing himself to Jawleyford, bub
looking at Sponge, who was still on the piebald, " we'll throw off."
" Thank you, my lord," replied Sponge ; " but I'll mount at the
cover side." Sponge not being inclined to let the Flat Hat Hunt
Field see the difference of opinion that occasionally existed
between the gallant brown and himself.
" As you please," rejoined his lordship, " as you please," jerking
his head at Frostyface, who forthwith gave the office to the
hounds ; whereupon all was commotion. Away the cavalcade
went, and in less than five minutes the late bustling village
resumed its wonted quiet ; the old man on sticks, two crones
gossiping at a door, a rag-or-any thing-else-gatherer going about
with a donkey, and a parcel of dirty children tumbling about on
the green, being all that remained on the scene. All the able-
bodied men had followed the hounds. Why the hounds had ever
climbed the long hill seemed a mystery, seeing that they returned
the way they came.
Jawleyford, though sore disconcerted at having " Jack "
pawned upon him, stuck to my lord, and rode on his right with
the air of a general. He felt he was doing his duty as an English-
man in thus patronising the hounds — encouraging a manly spirit
of independence, and promoting our unrivalled breed of horses.
The post-boy trot at which hounds travel, to be sure, is not well
adapted for dignity ; but Jawleyford flourished and vapoured as
well as he could under the circumstances, and considering they
were going down hill. Lord Scamperdale rode along, laughing in
his sleeve at the idea of the pleasant evening Jack and Jawleyford
would have together, occasionally complimenting Jawleyford on
the cut and condition of his horse, and advising him to be careful
of the switching raspers with which the country abounded, and
which might be fatal to his nice nutmeg-coloured trousers. The
rest of the " field " followed, the fall of the ground enabling them
.1/7.'. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
129
to see "how thick Jawleyford was with my lord." Old
Blossomnose, who, we should observe, had slipped
unperceived on Jawleyford's arrival, took a bird's-eye view
the rear. Naughty Blossom was riding the horse that ought to
have gone in the " chay " to Jawleyford Court.
away
from
CHAPTEE XXIII.
THE GREAT RU>".
':^:mm;:i
HIS LOItBSHIP HAS IT ALL TO HIMSELF.
Our hero having inveigled the brown under lee of an out-
house as the field moved along, was fortunate enough to achieve
the saddle without disclosing the secrets of the stable ; and as he
rejoined the throng in all the pride of shape, action, and con-
dition, even the top-sawyers, Fossick, Fyle, Bliss, and others,
admitted that Hercules was not a bad-like horse ; while the
humbler-minded ones eyed Sponge with a mixture of awe and
envy, thinking what a fine trade literature must be to stand such
a horse.
" Is your friend "What's-his-name, a workman ? " asked Lord
Scamperdale, nodding towards Sponge as he trotted Hercules
gently past on the turf by the side of the road along which they
■were ridimr.
130 MB. SPONGE'S SPOBTING TOUB.
" Oh, no," replied Jawleyford, tartly. " Ob, no — gentleman ,
man of property — "
" I did not mean was he a mechanic," explained his lordship
drily, " but a workman ; a good 'un across country, in fact."
His lordship working his arms as if he was troing to set-to himself.
"Oh, a first-rate man I— first-rate man I " replied Jawleyford ;
" beat them all at Laverick AVells."
" I thought so," observed his lordship ; adding to himself,
" then Jack shall take the conceit out of him."
" Jack ! " holloaed he over his shoulder to his friend, who was
jogging a little behind ; "Jack!? repeated he, " that Mr. Some-
thing—"
" Sponge ! " observed Jawleyford, with an emphasis.
"That Mr. Sponge," continued his lordship, "is a stranger in
the country : have the kindness to take care of him. You know
what I mean ? "
" Just so," replied Jack ; " I'll take care of him."
" Most polite of your lordship, I'm sure," said Jawleyford, with
a low bow, and laying his hand on his breast. " I can assure you
I shall never forget the marked attention I have received from
your lordship this day."
" Thank you for nothing," grunted his lordship to himself.
Bump, bump ; trot, trot ; jabber, jabber, on they went as before.
They had now got to the cover, Tickler Gorse, and ere the last
horsemen had reached the last angle of the long hill, Frostyface
was rolling about on foot in the luxuriant evergreen ; now wholly
visible, now all but overhead, like a man buffeting among the waves
of the sea. Save Frosty's cheery voice encouraging the invisible
pack to "wind him !" and "rout him out ! " an injunction that
the shaking of the gorse showed they willingly obeyed, and an
occasional exclamation from Jawleyford, of " Beautiful ! beautiful !
— never saw better hounds ! — can't be a finer pack ! " not a sound
disturbed the stillness of the scene. The Avaggoners on the road
stopped their wains, the late noisy ploughmen leaned vacantly on
their stilts, the turnip-pullers stood erect in air, and the shepherds*
boys deserted the bleating flocks ; — all was life and joy and liberty
— " Liberty, equality, and foxhunt-ity ! "
"To — i — cks, wind him! Y — o — o — iclcs ! rout him out!"
went Frosty ; occasionally varying the entertainment with a loud
crack of his heavy whip, when he could get upon a piece of rising
ground to clear the thong.
" Tally-ho ! " screamed Jawleyford, hoisting the Bumperkin
Yeomanry cap in the air. " Tally-ho ! " repeated he, looking
triumphantly round, as much as to say, " What a clever boy
am I ! "
" Hold your noise I " roared Jack, who was posted a little below.
MP. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 131
" Don't you see it's a hare ? " added he, amidst the uproarious
mirth of the company.
" I haven't your great staring specs on, or I should have seen
lie hadn't a tail," retorted Jawleyford, nettled at the tone in which
Jack had addressed him.
" Tail be ! " replied Jack, with a sneer ; " who but a
tailor would call it a tail ? "
Just then a light low squeak of a whimper was heard in the
thickest part of the gorse, and Frostyface cheered the hound to
the echo. " Hoick to Pillager! H — o — o — ick!" screamed he,
in a long-drawn note, that thrilled through every frame, and set
the horses a-capering.
Ere Frosty's prolonged screech was fairly finished, there was
such an outburst of melody, and such a shaking of the gorse-
bushes, as plainly showed there was no safety for Eeynard in
cover ; and great was the bustle and commotion among the horse-
men. Mr. Fossick lowered his hat-string and ran the fox's tooth
through the button-hole ; Fyle drew his girths ; Washball took a
long swig at his hunting horn-shaped monkey ; Major Mark and
Mr. Archer threw away their cigar ends ; Mr. Bliss drew on his
dogskin gloves ; Mr. Wake rolled the thong of his whip round the
stick, to be better able to encounter his puller ; Mr. Sparks got a
yokel to take up a link of his curb ; George Smith and Joe Smith
looked at their watches ; Sandy McGregor, the factor, filled his
great Scotch nose with Irish snuff, exclaiming, as he dismissed the
balance from his fingers by a knock against his thigh, " Oh, my mon,
aw think this tod will gie us a ran ! " while Blossomnose might
be seen stealing gently forward, on the far side of a thick fence, for
the double purpose of shirking Jawleyford, and getting a good start.
In the midst of these and similar preparations for the fray, up
went a whip's cap at the lower end of the cover ; and a volley of
'"Tallyhos" burst from our friends, as the fox, whisking his white-
tipped brush in the air, was seen stealing away over the grassy
hill beyond. What a commotion was there ! How pale some
looked ! How happy others !
" Sing out, Jack ! for Twav&rCs sake, sing out! " exclaimed Lord
Scamperdale ; an enthusiastic sportsman, always as eager for a run
as if he had never seen one. " Sing out, Jack ; or, by Jove,
they'll over-ride 'em at starting ! "
" Hold hard, gentlemen," roared Jack, clapping spurs into his
grey, or rather into his lordship's grey, dashing in front, and draw-
ing the horse across the road to stop the progression of the field.
"Hold hard, one minute!" repeated Jack, standing erect in his
stirrups, and menacing them with his whip (a most formidable
one). " Whatever you do, pray let them get away ! Frag don't
spoil your own sport ! Pray remember they're his lordship's
132 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
hounds ! — that they cost him five-and-twenty underd — two thou-
sand live underd a year ! And where, let me ax, with wheat down
to nothing, would you get another, if he was to throw up ? "
As Jack made this inquiry, he took a hurried glance at the now
pouring-out pack ; and seeing they were safe away, he wiped the
i'oam from his mouth on his sleeve, dropped into his saddle, and
cntching his horse short round by the head, clapped spurs into his
sides, and galloped away, exclaiming,
"Now, ye tinkers, we'll all start fair ! "
Then there was such a scrimmage ! such jostling and elbowing
among the jealous ones ; such ramming and cramming among the
eager ones ; such pardon-begging among the polite ones ; such
spurting of ponies, such clambering of cart-horses ! All were bent
on going as far as they could — all except Jawleyford, who sat
curvetting and prancing in the patronising sort of way gentlemen
do who encourage hounds for the sake of the manly spirit the
sport engenders, and the advantage hunting is of in promoting
our unrivalled breed of horses.
His lordship having slipped away, horn in hand, under pretence
of blowing the hounds out of cover, as soon as he set Jack at the
field, had now got a good start, and, horse well in hand, was sail-
ing away in their wake.
" F-o-o-r-r-ard /" screamed Frostyface, coming up alongside of
him, holding his horse — a magnificent thoroughbred bay — well by
the head, and settling himself into his saddle as he went.
" F-o-r-rard ! " screeched his lordship, thrusting his spectacles
on to his nose.
" Twang — twang — twang" went the huntsman's deep-sounding
horn.
" Tweet— tweet — Vweet" went his lordship's shriller one.
" In for a stinger, my lurd," observed Jack, returning his horn
to the case.
" Hope so," replied his lordship, pocketing his.
They then flew the first fence together.
" F-o-r-r-ard 1 " screamed Jack iti the air, as he saw the hounds
packing well together, and racing with a breast-high scent.
"F-o-r-rard ! " screamed his lordship, who was a sort of echo to
his huntsman, just as Jack Spraggon was echo to his lordship.
" He's away for Gunnersby Craigs," observed Jack, pointing
that way, for they were good ten miles off.
" Hope so," replied his lordship, for whom the distance could
never be too great, provided the pace corresponded.
" F-o-o-r-rard ! " screamed Jack.
" F-o-r-rard ! " screeched his lordship.
So they went flying and " forrarding " together ; none of the
field — thanks to Jack Spraggon — being able to overtake them.
MP. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUli. 133
" Y-o-o-ndcr he goes ! " at last cried Frosty, taking off his crip
as he viewed the fox, some hall'-inilo ahead, stealing away round
the side of Newington hill.
" Talhjho /" screeched his lordship, riding with his flat hat in
the air, by way of exciting the striving field to still further
exertion.
" He's a good 'un ! " exclaimed Frosty, eyeing the fox's going.
" He is that ! " replied his lordship, staring at him with all his
might.
Then they rode on, and were presently rounding Newington
hill themselves, the hounds packing well together, and carrying a
famous head.
His lordship now looked to see what was going on behind.
Scrambleford hill was far in the rear. Jawleyford and the boy
in blue were altogether lost in the distance. A quarter of a mile
or so this way were a couple of dots of horsemen, one on a white,
the other on a dark colour — most likely Jones, the keeper, and
Farmer Stubble, on the foaly marc. Then, a little nearer, was a
man in a hedge, trying to coax his horse after him, stopping the
way of two boys in white trowscrs, whose ponies looked like rats.
Again, a little nearer, were some of the persevering ones — men
who still hold on in the forlorn hopes of a check — all dark-coated,
and mostly trousered. Then came the last of the red-coats — Tom
Washball, Charley Joyce, and Sam Sloman, riding well in the
first flight of second horsemen — his lordship's pad-groom, Mr.
Fossick's man in drab with a green collar, Mr. Wake's in blue,
also a lad in scarlet and a flat hat, with a second horse for the
huntsman. Drawing still nearer came the ruck — men in red, men
in brown, men in livery, a farmer or two in fustian, all mingled
together ; and a few hundred yards before these, and close upon
his lordship, were the elite of the field — five men in scarlet and
one in black. Let us see who they arc. By the powers, Mr.
Sponge is first ! — Sponge sailing away at his ease, followed by
Jack, who is staring at him through his great lamps, longing to
launch out at him, but as yet wanting an excuse ; Sponge having
ridden with judgment — judgment, at least, in everything except
in having taken the lead of Jack. After Jack comes old black-
booted JBIossomnose ; and Messrs. Wake, Fossick, and Fyle,
complete our complement of five. They are all riding steadily
and well ; all very irate, however, at the stranger lor going
before them, and ready to back Jack in anything he may say
or do.
On, on they go ; the hounds still pressing forward, though not
carrying quite so good a head as before. In truth, they have run
four miles in twenty minutes ; pretty good going anywhere except
upon paper, where they always go unnaturally fast. However, there
134 ME. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
they are, still pressing on, though with considerably less music
than before.
After rounding Newington Hill, they got into a wilder and
worse sort of country, among moorish, ill-cultivated land, with
cold unwholesome-looking fallows. The day, too, seemed changing
for the worse ; a heavy black cloud hanging overhead. The
hounds were at length brought to their noses.
His lordship, who had been riding all eyes, ears, and fears, fore-
saw the probability of this ; and pulling-to his horse, held up his
hand, the usual signal for Jack to " sing out " and stop the field.
Sponge saw the signal, but, unfortunately, Hercules didn't ; and
tearing along with his head to the ground, resolutely bore our
friend not only past his lordship, but right on to where the now
stooping pack were barely feathering on the line.
Then Jack and his lordship sung out together.
"Hold hard!" screeched his lordship, in a dreadful state of
excitement.
" Hold hard ! " thundered Jack.
Sponge was holding hard — hard enough to split the horse's
jaws, but the beast would go on, notwithstanding.
" By the powers, he's among 'em again ! " shouted his lordship,
as the resolute beast, with his upturned head almost pulled round
to Sponge's knee, went star-gazing on like the blind man in
Eegent Street. " Sing oat, Jack ! sing out ! for heaven's sake
sing out," shrieked his lordship, shutting his eyes, as he added,
" or he'll kill every man Jack of* them."
" Now, Sur ! " roared Jack, " can't you steer that ere aggra-
vatin' quadruped of yours ? "
" Oh, you pestilential son of a pontry-maid ! " screeched his
lordship, as Brilliant ran yelping away from under Sponge's horse's
feet. "Sin// out Jack! sing out!" gasped his lordship again.
" Oh, you scandalous, hypocritical, rusty-booted, numb-handed
son of a puffing corn-cutter, why don't you turn your attention to
feeding hens, cultivating cabbages, or making pantaloons for
small folks, instead of killing hounds in this wholesale way ? "
roared Jack ; an enquiry that set him foaming again.
"' Oh, you unsighty, sanctified, idolatrous, Bagnigge - Wells
coppersmith, you think because I'm a lord, and can't swear
or use coarse language, that you may do what you like ; rot
you, sir, I'll present you with a testimonial ! I'll settle a
hundred a-year upon you if you'll quit the country. By
the powers, they're away again ! " added his lordship, who, with
one eye on Sponge and the other on the pack, had been watching
Frcsty lifting them over the bad scenting-ground, till, holding
them on to a hedgerow beyond, they struck the scent on good
sound pasture, and went away at score, every hound throwing his
MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 135
tongue, and filling the air with joyful melody. Away they swept
like a hurricane. " F-o-o-rard ! " was again the cry.
" Hang it, Jack," exclaimed Lord Scamperdale, laying his
hand on his double's shoulder, as they galloped alongside of each
other — " Hang it, Jack, see if you can't sarve out this unrighteous,
mahogany-hooted, rattlesnake. Bo if you die for it !— I'll bury
your remainders genteelly — patent coffin with brass nails, all to
yourself — put Frosty and all the fellows in black, and raise a
white marble monument to your memory, declaring you were the
most spotless virtuous man under the sun."
"Let me off dining with Jaw, and I'll do my best," replied Jack.
" Bone ! " screamed his lordship, flourishing his right arm in
the air, as he flew over a great stone wall.
A good many of the horses and sportsmen too had had enough
before the hounds checked ; and the quick way Frosty lifted them
and hit off the scent, did not give them much time to recruit. Many
of them now sat, hat in hand, mopping, and puffing, and turning
their red perspiring faces to the wind. " Poough" gasped one, as if
he was going to be sick ; " Puff," went another ; " Oh ! but its
'ot ! " exclaimed a third, pulling off his limp neckcloth ; " Wonder
if there's any ale hereabouts," cried a fourth ; " Terrible run ! "
observed a fifth ; " Ten miles at least," gasped another. Mean-
while the hounds went streaming on ; and it is wonderful how
soon those who don't follow are left hopelessly in the rear.
Of the few that did follow, Mr. Sponge, however, was one.
Nothing daunted by the compliments that had been paid him, he
got Hercules well in hand ; and the horse dropping again on the
bit, resumed his place in front, going as strong and steadily as
ever. Thus he went, throwing the mud in the faces of those
behind, regardless of the oaths and imprecations that followed ;
Sponge knowing full well they would do the same by him if they
could.
" All jealousy," said Sponge, spurring his horse. " Never saw
such a jealous set of dogs in my life."
An accommodating lane soon presented itself, along which they
all pounded, with the hounds running parallel through the
enclosures on the left ; Sponge sending such volleys of pebbles
and mud in his rear as made it advisable to keep a good way
behind him. The line was now apparently for Firlingham
Woods ; but on nearing the thatched cottage on Gaspar Heath,
the fox, most likely being headed, had turned short to the right ;
and the chase now lay over Sheeplow Water meadows, and so on
to Bolsover brick-fields, when the pack again changed from
hunting to racing, and the pace for a time was severe. His lord-
ship having got his second horse at the turn, was ready for the
tussle, and plied away vigorously, riding, as usual, with all his
136 MB. SrONGE'S SPOBTING TOUB.
heart, with all his mind, with all his soul, and with all his
strength ; while Jack, still on the grey, came plodding diligently
along in the rear, saving his horse as much as he could. His
lordship charged a stiff flight of rails in the brick-fields ; while
Jack, thinking to save his, rode at a weak place in the fence, a
little higher up, and in an instant was souse overhead in a
clay-hole.
" Buck under, Jack ! duck under ! " screamed his lordship, as
Jack's head rose to the surface. " Ditch under! yoiCll have it fall
directly ! " added he, eyeing Sponge and the rest coming up.
Sponge, however, saw the splash, and turning a little lower
down, landed safe on sound ground ; while poor Blossomnosc,
who was next, went floundering overhead also. But the pace was
too good to stop to fish them out.
"Dash it," said Sponge, looking at them splashing about, "but
that was a near go for me ! "
Jack being thus disposed of, Sponge, with increased confidence,
rose in his stirrups, easing the redoubtable Hercules ; and patting
him on the shoulder, at the same time that he gave him the
gentlest possible touch of the spur, exclaimed, " By the powers,
we'll show these old Flat Hats the trick ! " He then commenced
humming —
Mister Sponge, the raspers taking,
Sets the jankers' nerves a shaking; —
and riding cheerfully on, he at length found himself on the confines
of a wild, rough-looking moor, with an undulating range of hills
in the distance.
Frostyface and Lord Scampcrdalc here for the first time diverged
from the line the hounds were running, and made for the neck of
a smooth, flat, rather inviting-looking piece of ground, instead of
crossing it, Sponge, thinking to get a niche, rode to it ; and the
"deeper and deeper still " sort of flounder his horse made soon let
him know that he was in a bog. The impetuous Hercules rushed
and reared onwards as if to clear the wide expanse ; and alighting
still lower, shot Sponge right overhead in the middle.
" That's cooked your goose ! " exclaimed his lordship, eyeing
Sponge and his horse floundering about in the black porridge-like
mess.
"Catch my horse !" hallooed Sponge to the first whip, who came
galloping up as Hercules was breasting his way out again.
" Catch him yourself," grunted the man, galloping on.
A peat-cutter, more humane, received the horse as he emerged
from the black sea, exclaiming, as the now-piebald Sponge came
lobbing after on foot, " A, sir ! but ye should niver set tec to ride
through sic a place as that ! "
MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 137
Sponge having generously rewarded the man with a fourpenny
piece, for catching his horse and scraping the thick of the mud oft"
him, again mounted, and cantered round the point he should at
first have gone; but his chance was out — the further he wont, the
further he was left behind ; till at last, pulling up, he stood
watching the diminishing pack, rolling like marbles over the top
of Botherjade Hill, followed by his lordship hugging his horse
round the neck as he went, and the huntsman and whips leading
and driving theirs up before them.
" Nasty jealous old beggar ! " said Sponge, eyeing his lessening
lordship disappearing over the hill too. Sponge then performed
the sickening ceremony of turning away from hounds running :
not but that he might have plodded on on the line, and perhaps
seen or heard what became of the fox, but Sponge didn't hunt on
those terms. Like a good many other gentlemen, he would be
first, or nowhere.
If it was any consolation to him, he had plenty of companions
in misfortune. The line was dotted with horsemen back to the
brick-fields. The first person he overtook wending his way home
in the discontented, moody humour of a thrown-out man, was Mi-.
Puffington, master of the Hanby hounds ; at whose appearance at
the meet we expressed our surprise.
Neighbouring masters of hounds are often more or less jealous
of each other. No man in the master-of-hound world is too
insignificant for censure. Lord Scamperdalc was an undouhted
sportsman ; while poor Mr. Puffington thought of nothing but
how to be thought one. Hearing the mistaken rumour that a
great writer was down, he thought that his chance of immortality
was arrived ; and ordering his best horse, and putting on his hesfc
apparel, had braved the jibes and sneers of Jack and his lordship
for the purpose of scraping acquaintance with the stranger. In
that he had been foiled : there was no time at the meet to get
introduced, neither could he get jostled beside Sponge in going
down to the cover ; while the quick find, the quick get away,
followed by the quick thing we have described, were equally
unfavourable to the undertaking. Nevertheless, Mr. Puffington
had held on beyond the brick-fields ; and had he but persevered a
little further, he would have had the satisfaction of helping Mr,
Sponge out of the bog.
Sponge now, seeing a red coat a little before, trotted on, and
quickly overtook a fine nippy, satin-stocked, dandified looking
gentleman, with marvellously smart leathers and boots— a great
contrast to the large, roomy, bargeman-like costume of the
members of the Flat Hat Hunt.
"You're not hurt, I hope?" exclaimed Mr. Puffington, with well-
feigned anxiety, as he looked at Mr. Sponge's black-daubed clothes.
138 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
" Oh no ! " replied Sponge. " Oh no ! — fell soft — fell soft.
More dirt, less hurt — more dirt, less hurt."
" Why you've been in a bog ! " exclaimed Mr. Puffington, eyeing
the much-stained Hercules.
"Almost over head," replied Sponge. " Scampcrdale saw me
going, and hadn't the grace to holloa."
"Ah, that's like him," replied Mr. Puffington,— " that's like
him, there's nothing pleases him so much as getting fellows into
grief."
" Not very polite to a stranger," observed Mr. Sponge.
"No, it isn't," replied Mr. Puffington, — "no, it isn't ; far from
it indeed — far from it ; but, low be it spoken," added he, " his
lordship is only a roughish sort of customer."
" So he is," replied Mr. Sponge, who thought it fine to abuse a
nobleman.
" The fact is," said Mr. Puffington, " these Flat Hat chaps are
all snobs. They think there arc no such fine fellows as themselves
under the sun ; and if ever a stranger looks near them, they make
a point of being as rude and disagreeable to him as they possibly
can. This is what they call keeping the hunt select."
" Indeed ! " observed Mr. Sponge, recollecting how they had
complimented him ; adding, " They seem a queer set."
" There's a fellow they call ' Jack,' " observed Mr. Puffington,
" who acts as a sort of bulldog to his lordship, and worries whoever
his lordship sets him upon. He got into a clay-hole a little further
back, and a precious splashing he was making, along with the
chaplain, old Blossomnose."
"Ah, I saw him," observed Mr. Sponge.
" You should come and sec my hounds," observed Mr.
Puffington.
" What are they ? " asked Sponge.
"The Hanby," replied Mr. Puffington.
" Oh ! then you arc Mr. Puffington," observed Sponge, who had
a sort of general acquaintance with ail the hounds and masters —
indeed, with all the meets of all the hounds in the kingdom— which
he read in the weekly lists in "Bell's Life," just as he read
"Mogg's Cab Fares." " Then you are Mr. Puffington ? " observed
Sponge.
" The same," replied the stranger.
"I'll have a look at you," observed Sponge ; adding, "Do you
take in horses ? "
" Yours, of course" replied Mr. Puffington, bowing ; adding
something about great public characters, which Sponge didn't
understand.
" I'll be down upon you, as the extinguisher said to the
rushlight," observed Mr. Sponge.
MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUlt. 139
"Do," said Mr. Puffington ; "come before the frost. Where are
you staying now ? "
" I'm at Jawleyford's," replied our friend.
" Indeed ! — Jawleyford's, are you ? " repeated Mr. Puffington.
" Good fellow, Jawleyford — gentleman, Jawleyford. How long do
you stay ? "
" Why, I haven't made up my mind,1' replied Sponge. " Have
no thoughts of budging at present."
" Ah, well — good quarters," said Mr. Puffington, who now smelt
a rat ; " good quarters — nice girls — fine fortune — fine place,
Jawleyford Court. Well, book me for the next visit," added he.
"I will," said Sponge, "and no mistake. What do they call
your shop ? "
"Hanby House," replied Mr. Puffington ; "Hanby House — any
body can tell you where Hanby House is."
" I'll not forget," said Mr. Sponge, booking it in his mind, and
eyeing his victim.
" I'll show you a fine pack of hounds," said Mr. Puffington ;
"far finer animals than those of old Scamperdale's — steady, true
hunting hounds, that won't go a yard without a scent — none of
your jealous, flashy, frantic devils, that will tear over half a town-
ship without one, and are always looking out for ' holloas ' and
assistance "
Mr. Puffington was interrupted in the comparison he was about
to draw between his lordship's hounds and his, by arriving at the
Bolsovcr brickfields, and seeing Jack and Blossomnose, horse in
hand, running to and fro, while sundry countrymen blobbed
about in the clay-hole they had so recently occupied. Tom
Washball, Mr. WTake, Mr. Fyle, Mr. Fossick, and several dark-
coated horsemen and boys, were congregated around. Jack had
lost his spectacles, and Blossomnose his whip, and the countrymen
were diving for them.
" Xot hurt, I hope?" said Mr. Puffington, in the most dandified
tone of indifference, as he rode up to where Jack and Blossomnose
were churning the water in their boots, stamping up and down,
trying to get themselves warm.
" Hurt be hanged ! " replied Jack, who had a frightful squint,
that turned his eyes inside out when he was in a passion : " Hurt
be hanged ! " said he ; " might have been drowned, for anything
you'd have cared."
" I should have been sorry for that," replied Mr. Puffington ;
adding, " The Flat Bat Hunt could ill afford to lose so useful and
ornamental a member."
" I don't know what the Flat Hat Hunt can afford to lose,"
spluttered Jack, who hadn't got all the clay out of his mouth ;
"but I know they can afford to do without the company of certain
140
Mil. SPONGE'S SPOBTING TOUR.
gentlemen who shall be nameless," said he, looking at Sponge and
Puffington as he thought, but in reality showing nothing but the
whites of his eyes.
" I told you so," said Puffington, jerking his head towards Jack,
as Sponge and he turned their horses' heads to ride away ; " I told
you so," repeated he ; " that's a specimen of their style ; " adding,.
'; they are the greatest set of ruffians under the sun."
The new acquaintances then jogged on together as far as the-
cross roads at Stewley, when Puffington, having bound Sponge in
his own recognisance to come to him when he left Jawleyford
Court, pointed him out his way, and with a most hearty shake of
the hands the new-made friends parted.
CHAPTER XXIV
LOUD SCAMPERDALE AT HOME.
V
*"^>
E fear our fair friends
will expect something
gay from the above-
heading — lamps and
flambeaux outside,
fiddlers, feathers, and
ilirters in. Nothing of
the sort, fair ladies —
nothing of the sort.
Lord Scamperdale " at
home," simply means,
that his lordship was.
not out hunting, that
lie had got his dirty
boots and breeches off',
and dry tweeds and
tartans on.
Lord Scamperdale-
was the eighth earl ; and, according to the usual alternating
course of great English families— one generation living and the
next starving — it was his lordship's turn to live ; but the seventh
earl having been rather unreasonable in the length of his lease,
the present earl, who during the lifetime of his father was Lord
Hardup, had contracted such parsimonious habits, that when he
came into possession he could not shake them off ; and but for the
fortunate friendship of Abraham Brown, the village blacksmith,.
)M-
v>^M|p
T'.fJV
SILVER-MOUNTED SPECTACLES.
MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUB. Ill
•who had given his young idea a sporting turn, entering him with
ferrets and rabbits, and so training him on with terriers and rat-
catching, badger-baiting and otter-hunting, up to the noble sport
of fox-hunting itself, in all probability his lordship would have
been a regular miser. As it was, he did not spend a halfpenny
upon anything but hunting ; and his hunting, though well, was
still economically done, costing him some couple of thousand
a-year, to which, for the sake of euphony, Jack used to add an
extra five hundred ; " two thousand five underd a year, fivc-and-
twenty underd a year," sounding better, as Jack thought, and
more imposing, than a couple of thousand, or two thousand,
a-year. There were few days on which Jack didn't inform the
field what the hounds cost his lordship, or rather what they
didn't cost him.
Woodmansterne, his lordship's principal residence, was a fine
place. It stood in an undulating park of 800 acres, with its
church, and its lakes, and its heronry, and its decoy, and its race-
course, and its varied grasses of the choicest kinds, for feeding the
-numerous herds of deer, so well known at Temple Bar and Charing-
cross as the Woodmansterne venison. The house was a modern
edifice, built by the sixth earl, who, having been a " liver," had
run himself aground by his enormous outlay on this Italian
structure, which was just finished when he died. The fourth earl,
who, we should have stated, was a " liver " too, was a man of
vcrtu — a great traveller and collector of coins, pictures, statues,
marbles, and curiosities generally — things that are very dear to
buy, but oftentimes extremely cheap when sold ; and, having
collected a vast quantity from all parts of the world (no easy feat
in those days), he made them heirlooms, and departed this life,
leaving the next earl the pleasure of contemplating them. The
fifth earl having duly starved through life, then made way for the
sixth ; who, finding such a quantity of valuables stowed away as
he thought in rather a confined way, sent to London for a first-
rate architect, Sir Thomas Squareall (who always posted with four
horses), who forthwith pulled down the old brick-aud-stone
Elizabethan mansion, and built the present splendid Italian
structure, of the finest polished stone, at an expense of — furniture
and all — say 120,000/. ; Sir Thomas's estimates being 30,000/.
"The seventh earl of course they starved ; and the present lord, at
the age of forty-three, found himself in possession of house, and
coins, and curiosities ; and, best of all, of some 90,000/. in the
funds, which had quietly rolled up during the latter part of his
venerable parent's existence. His lordship then took counsel with
himself — first, whether he should marry or remain single ;
secondly, whether he should live or starve. Having considered
ihe subject with all the attention a limited allowance of brains
142 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
permitted, he came to the resolution that the second proposition
depended a good deal upon the first ; " for," said ho to himself,
" if I marry, my lady, perhaps, may make mo live ; and therefore,"
said he, "perhaps I'd better remain single." At all events, he
came to the determination not to marry in a hurry ; and until he
did, ho felt there was no occasion for him to inconvenience him-
self by living. So he had the house put away in brown Holland,
the carpets rolled up, the pictures covered, the statues shrouded
in muslin, the cabinets of curiosities locked, the plate secured, the
china closeted, and everything arranged with the greatest care
against the time, which he put before him in the distance like a
target, when he should marry and begin to live.
At first he gave two or three great dinners a-year, about the
height of the fruit season, and when it was getting too ripe for
carriage to London by the old coaches — when a grand airing of the
state-rooms used to take place, and ladies from all parts of the
county used to sit shivering with their bare shoulders, all anxious
for the honours of the head of the table. His lordship always
held out that he was a marrying man ; but even if he hadn't they
would have come all the same, an unmarried man being always
clearly on the cards : and though he was stumpy, and clumsy, and
uo-ly, with as little to say for himself as could well be conceived,
they all agreed that he was a most engaging, attractive man —
quite a pattern of a man. Even on horseback, and in his hunting
clothes, in which he looked far the best, he was only a coarse,
square, bull-headed looking man, with hard, dry, round, matter-
of-fact features, that never look young, and yet somehow never
get old. Indeed, barring the change from brown to grey of his
short stubby whiskers, which he trained with great care into a
curve almost on to his cheek-bone, he looked very little older at tho
period of which we are writing than he did a dozen years before,
when he was Lord Hardup. These dozen years, however, had
brought him down in his doings.
The dinners had gradually dwindled away altogether, and he
had had all the large tablecloths and napkins rough dried and
locked away against he got married ; an event that he seemed
more anxious to provide for the more unlikely it became. He had
also abdicated the main body of the mansion, and taken up his
quarters in what used to be the steward's room ; into which he
could creep quietly by a side door opening from the outer
entrance, and so save frequent exposure to the cold and damp of
the large cathedral-like hall beyond. Through the steward's
room, wis what used to be the muniment room, which he con-
verted into a bed-room for himself ; and a little further along the
passage was another small chamber, made out of what used to be
the plate-room, whereof Jack, or whoever was in office, had tho
MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 143
possession. All three rooms were furnished in the roughest,
coarsest, homeliest way — his lordship wishing to keep all the good
furniture against he got married. The sitting-room, or parlour as
his lordship called it, had an old grey drugget for a carpet, an old
round black mahogany table on castors, that the last steward had
ejected as too bad for him, four semicircular wooden-bottomed
walnut smoking-chairs ; an old spindle-shanked sideboard, with
very little middle, over which swung a few book-shelves, with the
termination of their green strings surmounted by a couple of
foxes' brushes. Small as the shelves were, they were larger than
his lordship wanted — two books, one for Jack and one for himself,
being all they contained ; while the other shelves were filled with
hunting-horns, odd spurs, knots of whipcord, piles of halfpence,
lucifer match-boxes, gun-charges, and such like miscellaneous
articles.
His lordship's fare was as rough as his furniture. He was a
great admirer of tripe, cow-heel, and delicacies of that kind ; he
had tripe twice a-week — boiled one day, fried another. He was
also a great patron of beefsteaks, which he ate half raw, with
slices of cold onion served in a saucer with water.
It was a beefsteak-and-batter-pudding day on which the fore-
going run took place ; and his lordship and Jack having satisfied
nature off their respective dishes — for they only had vegetables in
common — and having finished off with some very strong Cheshire
cheese, wheeled their chairs to the fire, while Bags the butler
cleared the table and placed it between them. They were dressed
in full suits of flaming large-checked red-and-yellow tartans, the
tartan of that noble clan the " Stunners," with black-and-white
Shetland hose and red slippers. His lordship aud Jack had
related their mutual adventures by cross visits to each other's
bedrooms while dressing ; and, dinner being announced by the
time they were ready, they had fallen to, and applied themselves
diligently to the victuals, and now very considerately unbuttoned
their many-pocketed waistcoats and stuck out their legs, to give it
a fair chance of digesting. They seldom spoke much until his
lordship had had his nap, which he generally took immediately
after dinner ; but on this particular night he sat bending forward
in his chair, picking his teeth and looking at his toes, evidently
ill afc ease in his mind. Jack guessed the cause, but didn't say
anything. Sponge, he thought, had beat him.
At length his lordship threw himself back in his chair, and
stretching his little queer legs out before him, began to breathe
thicker and thicker, till at last he got the melody up to a grunt.
It was not the fine generous snore of a sleep that he usually
enjoyed, but, short, fitful, broken naps, that generally terminated
in spasmodic jerks of the arms or legs. These grew worse, till at
144
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
last all four went at once, like the limbs of a Peter Waggey,
when, throwing himself forward with a violent effort, he awoke ;
and finding his horse was not a-top of him, as he thought, he gave
vent to his feelings in the following ejaculations : —
" Oh, Jack, I'm onhappy ! " exclaimed he. " I'm distressed ! "
HIS LORDSHIP AND JACK.
continued he. "I'm icretched /" added he, slapping his knees.
"I'm perfectly miserable ! " he concluded, with a strong emphasis
on the " miserable."
" What's the matter ? " asked Jack, who was half asleep himself.
" Oh, that Mister Something ! — he'll be the death of mc ! "
observed his lordship.
"I thought so," replied Jack ; "what's the chap been after now ?"
" I dreamt he'd killed old Lablache — best hound I have," replied
his lordship.
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 145
" He l>e ," grunted Jack.
"Ah, it's all very well for you to say 'he be this ' and 'he he
that,' but I can tell you what, that fellow is going to be a very
awkward customer — a terrible thorn in my side."
" Humnh ! " grunted Jack, who didn't see how,
" There's mischief about that fellow," continued his lordship,
pouring himself out half a tumbler of gin, and filling it up with
water. " There's mischief about the fellow. I don't like his looks
— I don't like his coat — I don't like his boots — I don't like any-
thing about him. I'd rather 6ee the back of him than the front.
He must be got rid of," added his lordship.
"Well, I did my best to-day, I'm sure," replied Jack. " I was
deuced near wanting the patent coffin you were so good as to
promise me."
" You did your work well" replied his lordship ; " you did your
work well ; and you shall have my other specs till I can get you a
new pair from town ; and if you'll serve me again, I'll remember
you in my will — I'll leave you something handsome."
" I'm your man," replied Jack.
" I never was so bothered with a fellow in my life," observed
his lordship. " Captain Topsawyer was bad enough, and always
pressed far too close on the hounds, but he would pull up at a
check ; but this rusty booted 'bomination seems to think the
hounds are kept for him to ride over. He must be got rid of
somehow," repeated his lordship ; " for we shall have no peace while
he's here."
" If he's after either of the Jawley girls, he'll be bad to shake
off," observed Jack.
"That's just the point," replied his lordship, quaffing off his
gin wTith the air of a man most thoroughly thirsty ; " that's
just the pont," repeated he, setting down his tumbler. " I think
if he is, I c<>uld cook his goose for him."
" How so ? " asked Jack, drinking off his glass.
"Why, I'll tell you," replied his lordship, replenishing his
tumbler, and passing the old gilt-labelled blue bottle over to
Jack ; " you see, Frosty's a cunning old file, picks up all the news
and gossip of the country when he's out at exercise with the
hounds, or in going to cover — knows everything ! — who licks his
wife, and whose wife licks him — who's after such a girl, and so on;
— and he's found out somehow that this Mi. What's-his-name
isn't the man of metal he's passing for."
" Indeed," exclaimed Jack, raising his eyebrows, and squinting
his eyes inside out ; Jack's opinion of a man being entirely regu-
lated by his purse.
" It's a fact," said his lordship, with a knowing shake of his
head. "As we were toddling home with the hounds, I said to
14G MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
Frosty, ' I hope that Mr. Something's comfortable in his hath' —
meaning Gobblecow Bog, which he rode into. ' Why,' said Frosty,
' it's no great odds what comes of such rubbage as that.' Now,
Frosty, you know, in a general way, is a most polite, fairspoken
man, specially before Christmas, when he begins to look for
the tips ; and as we are not much troubled with strangers, thanks
to your sensible way of handling them, I thought Froscy would
have made the most of this natural son of Dives, and been as
polite to him as possible. However, he was evidently no favourite
of Frosty's. So I jnst asked — not that one likes to be familiar
with servants, you know, but still this brown-booted beggar is
enough to excite one's curiosity and make any one go out of one's
way a little, — so I just asked Frosty what he knew about him.
' All over the left,' said Frosty, jerking his thumb back over his
shoulder, and looking as knowing' as a goose with one eye ; 'all
over the left,' repeated he. 'What's over the left?' said I.
' Why, this Mr. Sponge,' said he. ' How so ? ' asked I. 'Why,'
said Frosty, ' he's come gammonin' down here that he's a great
man — full of money, and horses, and so on ; but it's all my eye,
he's no more a great man than I am.' "
" The deuce ! " exclaimed Jack, who had sat squinting and
listening intently as his lordship proceeded. "Well, now, hang
me, I thought he was a snob the moment I saw him," continued
he ; Jack being one of those clever gentlemen who know every-
thing after they are told.
" ' Well, how do you know, Jack ? ' said I to Frosty. ' Oh I
Jcnows? replied he, as if he Avas certain about it. However, I
wasn't satisfied without knowing too ; and, as we kept jogging on,
we came to the old Coach and Horses, and I said to Jack, ' We
may as well have a drop of something to warm us.' So we halted,
and had glasses of brandy apiece, whips and all ; and then, as we
jogged on again, I just said to Jack, casually, ' Did you say it
was Mr. Blossomnose told you about old Brown Boots ? ' 'No —
Blossomnose — no? replied he, as if Blossom never had anything half
so good to tell ; ' it was a young woman,' said he, in an undertone,
' who told me, and she had it from old Brown Boots's groom.' "
" Well, that's good, observed Jack, diving his hands into the very
bottom of his great tartan trouser pockets, and shooting his legs
out before him ; " Well, that's good" repeated he, falling into a
sort of reverie.
" Well, but what can we make of it ? " at length inqu/'red he,
after a long pause, during which he ran the facts through his mind,
and thought they could not be much ruder to Sponge than they
had been. " What can we make of it ? " said he. " The fellow
can ride, and we can't prevent him hunting ; and his having
nothing only makes him less careful of his neck."
ME. SPONGE'S SPOETING TOUE. 147
" Why, that was just what I thought," replied Lord Scamper-
dale, taking another tumbler of gin ; " that was just what I
thought — the fellow can ride, and we can't prevent him ; and just
as I settled that in my sleep, I thought I saw him come staring
along, with his great brown horse's head in the air, and crash right
a-top of old Lablachc. But I sec my way clearer with him now.
But help yourself," continued his lordship, passing the giu-bottle
over to Jack, feeling that what he had to say required a little
recommendation. " I think I can turn Frosty 's information to
some account."
" I don't sec how," observed Jack, replenishing his glass.
" I do, though," replied his lordship ; " but I must have your
assistance."
" Well, anything in moderation," replied Jack, who had had to
turn his hand to some very queer jobs occasionally.
" I'll tell you what /think," observed his lordship. "I think
there are two ways of getting rid of this haughty Philistine — this
unclean spirit — this 'bomination of a man. I think, in the first
place, if old Chatterbox knew that he had nothing, he would very
soon bow him out of Jawleyford Court ; and, in the second, that
we might get rid of him by buying his horses."
"Well," replied Jack, " I don't know but you're right. Chatter-
box would soon wash his hands of him, as lie has clone of many
promising young gentleman before, if he has nothing ; but people
differ so in their ideas of what nothing consists of."
Jack spoke feelingly, for he was a gentleman who was generally
spoken of as having nothing a-year, paid quarterly ; and yet he
was in the enjoyment of an annuity of sixty pounds.
" Oh, why, when I say he has nothing," replied Lord Scamper-
dale, " I mean that he has not what Jawleyford, who is a bumptious
sort of an ass, would consider sufficient to make him a fit match
for one of his daughters. He may have a few hundreds a year, but
Jaw, I'm sure, will look at nothing under thousands."
" Oh, certainly not," replied Jack ; " there's no doubt about
that."
" Well, then, you see, I was thinking," observed Lord Scamper-
dale, eyeing Jack's countenance, " that if you would dine there
to-morrow, as we fixed — "
" Oh, dash it ! I couldn't do that," interrupted Jack, drawing
himself together in his chair like a horse refusing a leap ; "I
couldn't do that — I couldn't dine with Jaw not at no price."
" Why not ? " asked Lord Scamperdale ; " he'll give you a
good dinner— fricassees, and all sorts of good things ; far finer i'aro
than you have here."
" That may all be," replied Jack, " but I don't want none of
his food. I hate the sight of the fellow, and detest him fresh every
h 2
148
MM. XPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
time I see him. Consider, too, you said you'd let me off if I sarved
out Sponge ; and I'm sure I did my best. I led him over some
awful places, and then what a ducking I got ! My ears are full of
water still," added he, laying his head on one side to try to run it out.
"You did well," observed Lord Scamperdale — "you did well, and
I fully intended to let you off, but then I didn't know what a beggar
I had to deal with. Come, say you'll go, that's a good fellow."
" GouldnH" replied Jack, squinting frightfully.
" You'll oblige me," observed Lord Scamperdale.
"Ah, well, I'd do anything to oblige your lordship," replied
Jack, thinking of the corner in the will. " I'd do anything to
oblige your lordship ; but the fact is, sir, I'm not prepared to go.
I've lost my specs — I've got no swell clothes — I can't go in the
Stunner tartan," added he, eyeing his backgammon-board-looking
chest, and diving his hands into the capacious pockets of his
shooting-jackefc.
" I'll manage all that," replied his lordship ; " I've got a pair of
splendid silver-mounted spectacles in the Indian cabinet in the
drawing-room, that I've kept to be married in. I'll lend them to
you, and there's no saying but you may captivate Miss Jawleyford
Sill
■''■lllilJI
if '-.'"' r; ■■fito'
GOOD NIGHT
in them. Then as to clothes, there's my new damson-coloured
velvet waistcoat with the steel buttons, and my fine blue coat with
the velvet collar, silk facings, and our button on it ; altogether I'll
rig you out and make you such a swell as there's no saying but
Miss Jawleyford'll offer to you, by way of consoling herself for the
loss of Sponge."
MB. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR.
U<)
" I'm afraid you'll have to make a settlement for me, then,"
observed our friend.
" Well, you are a good fellow, Jack," said his lordship, " and
I'd as soon make one on you as on any one."
" I 'spose you'll send me on wheels ? " observed Jack.
" In course," replied his lordship. " Dog-cart — name behind —
Right Honourable the Earl of Scamperdale — lad with cockade —
everything genteel ; " adding, " by Jove, they'll take you for me ! "
Having settled all these matters, and arranged how the informa-
tion was to be communicated to Jawleyford, the friends at length
took their block-tin candlesticks, with their cauliflower-headed
candles, and retired to bed.
J%£!
CHAPTER XXV.
MR. SPIIAGGON'S EMBASSY.
HEN Mr. Sponge re-
turned, all dirtied and
stained, from the chase,
he found his host sit-
ting in an arm-chair
over the study fire,
dressing-gowned and
slippered, with a poc-
ket-handkerchief tied
about his head, sham-
ming illness, prepara-
tory to putting off Mr.
Spraggon. To be sure
he played rather a bet-
ter knife and fork at
dinner than is usual
with persons with that
peculiar ailment ; but
Mr. Sponge, being very
hungry, and well at-
tended to by the fair,
— moreover, not sus-
pecting any ulterior
design, — just ate and jabbered away as usual, with the exception
<>f omitting his sick papa-in-law in the round of his observations.
So the dinner passed over.
" Bring me a tumbler and some hot water and sugar," said Mr.
MB. JAWLEYFORD S PECULIAR AILMENT.
150 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
Jawleyford, pressing his head against his hand, as Spigot, having
placed some bottle ends on the table, and reduced the glare of
light, was preparing to retire. " Bring me some hot water and
sugar," said he ; " and tell Harry he will have to go over to Lord
Scamperdale's, with a note, the first thing in the morning."
The young ladies looked at each other, and then at mamma,
who, seeing what was wanted, looked at papa, and asked " if he
was going to ask Lord Scamperdale over?" Amelia, among her
many " presentiments," had long enjoyed one that she was
destined to be Lady Scamperdale.
"No — over — no," snapped Jawleyford ; "what should put that
in your head ? "
" Oh, I thought as Mr. Sponge was here, you might think it a
good time to ask him."
" His lordship knows he can come when he likes," replied Jaw-
leyford ; adding, " it's to put that Mr. John Spraggon off, who
thinks he may do the same."
" Mr. Spraggon ! " exclaimed both the young ladies. " Mr.
Spraggon ! — Avhat should set him here ? "
" What, indeed ? " asked Jawleyford.
" Poor man ! I dare say there's no harm in him," observed Mrs.
Jawleyford, who was always ready for anybody.
"No good either," replied Jawleyford, — "at all events, we'll be
just as well without him. You know him, don't you ? " added he,
turning to Sponge — " great coarse man in spectacles."
" Oh yes, I know him," replied Sponge ; "a great ruffian he is,
too," added he.
" One ought to be in robust health to encounter such a man,"
observed Jawleyford, " and have time to get a man or two of the
same sort to meet him. We can do nothing with such a man. I
can't understand how his lordship puts up with such a fellow."
" Finds him useful, I suppose," observed Mr. Sponge.
Spigot presently appeared with a massive silver salver, bearing
tumblers, sugar, lemon, nutmeg, and other implements of negus.
" Will you join me in a little winc-and-water ? " asked Jawley-
ford, pointing to the apparatus and bottle ends, "or will you have
a fresh bottle ?— plenty in the cellar," added he, with a flourish of
his hand, though he kept looking steadfastly at tha negus-tray.
" Oh — why — I'm afraid — I doubt — I think I should hardly be
able to do justice to a bottle single-handed," replied Sponge.
" Then have negus," said Jawleyford ; " you'll find it very
refreshing ; medical men recommend it after violent exercise in
preference to wine. But pray have wine if you prefer it."
" Ah — well, I'll finish it off with a little negus, perhaps," replied
Sponge ; adding, "meanwhile the ladies, I dare say, would like a
little wine."
ME. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 151
" The ladies drink white wine — slurry " — rejoined Jawleyford,
determined to make a last effort to save his port. " However, you
can have a bottle of port to yourself, you know."
" Yery well," said Sponge.
"One condition I must attach," said Mr. Jawleyford, "which is,
that you finish the bottle. Don't let us have any waste, you know."
" I'll do my best," said Sponge, determined to have it ; where-
upon Mr. Jawleyford growled the word " Port " to the butler,
who had been witnessing his master's efforts to direct attention to
the negus. Thwarted in his endeavour, Jawleyford's headache
became worse, and the ladies, seeing how things were going, beat
a precipitate retreat, leaving our hero to his fate.
" I'll leave a note on my writing-table when I go to bed,"
observed Jawleyford to Spigot, as the latter was retiring after
depositing the bottle ; " and tell Harry to start with it early in
the morning, so as to get to Woodmansterne about breakfast —
nine o'clock, or so, at latest," added he.
" Yes, sir," replied Spigot, withdrawing with an air.
Sponge then wanted to narrate the adventures of the day ; but,
- independently of Jawleyford's natural indifference for hunting, he
was too much out of humour at being done out of his wine to lend
a willing ear ; and after sundry "hums,''' "indecds," " sos," &c,
Sponge thought he might as well think the run over to himself as
trouble to put it into words, whereupon a long silence ensued, in-
terrupted only by the tinkling of Jawleyford's spoon against his
glass, and the bumps of the decanter as Sponge helped himself to
his wine.
At length Jawleyford, having had as much negus as he wanted,
excused himself from further attendance, under the plea of in-
creasing illness, and retired to his study to concoct his letter
to Jack.
At first he was puzzled how to address him. If he had been
Jack Spraggon, living in old Mother Mpcheese's lodgings at Star-
field, as he was when Lord Scamperdale took him by the hand, he
would have addressed him as " Dear Sir," or perhaps in the third
person, " Mr. Jawleyford presents his compliments to Mr. Sprag-
gon," &c. ; but, as my lord's right-hand man, Jack carried a cer-
tain weight, and commanded a certain influence, that he would
never have acquired of himself.
Jawleyford spoilt three sheets of cream-laid satin-wove note-
paper (crested and ciphered) before he pleased himself with a
beginning. First he had it " Dear Sir," which he thought looked
too stiff ; then he had it " My dear Sir," which he thought looked
too loving ; next he had it " Dear Spraggon," which he considered
as too familiar ; and then he tried " Dear Mr. Spraggon," which
he thought would do. Thus he wrote : —
152 ME. SPONGE'S SPOETING TOUE.
" Dear Mr. Spraggon, — / am sorry to be obliged to put yon
off ; but since I came in from hunting I have been attacked with
influenza, which wilt incapacitate me from the enjoyment of society
at least for two or three days. I therefore think the kindest thing
I can do is to write to put you off ; and, in the hopes of seeing both
you and my lord at no distant day,
" I remain, dear sir, yours sincerely,
"Charles James Jawleyford,
" To JOHN SPRAGGOX, ESQ., " Jawleyford Court.
&c. &c. &c."
This he scaled with the great seal of Jawleyford Court — a coat
of arms containing innumerable quarterings and heraldic devices.
Having then refreshed his memory by looking through a bundle
of bills, and selected the most threatening of the lawyers' letters
to answer the next day, he proceeded to keep up the delusion of
sickness, by retiring to sleep in his dressing-room.
Our readers will now have the kindness to accompany us to
Lord Scamperdale's : time, the morning after the foregoing.
" Love me, love my dog," being a favourite saying of his lord-
ship's, he fed himself, his friends, and his hounds, on the same
meal. Jack and he were busy with two great basins full of por-
ridge, which his lordship diluted with milk, while Jack stirred his
up with hot dripping, when the put-off note arrived. His lord-
ship was still in a complete suit of the great backgammon-board
looking red-and-yellow Stunner tartan ; but as Jack was going
from home, he had got himself into a pair of his lordships yellow-
ochre leathers and new top-boots, while he wore the Stunner jacket
and waistcoat to save his lordship's Sunday green cut-away with
metal buttons, and canary-coloured waistcoat. His lordship did
not eat his porridge with his usual appetite, for he had had a dis-
turbed night, Sponge having appeared to him in his dreams in all
sorts of forms and predicaments ; now jumping a-top of him — now
upsetting Jack — now riding over Frosty-face — now crashing among
his hounds ; and he awoke, fully determined to get rid of him by
fair means or foul. Buying his horses did not seem so good a
speculation as blowing his credit at Jawleyford Court, for, inde-
pendently of disliking to part with his cash, his lordship remem-
bered that there were other horses to get, and he should only be
giving Sponge the means of purchasing them. The more, how-
ever, he thought of the Jawleyford project, the more satisfied he
was that it would do ; and Jack and he were in a sort of rehearsal,
wherein his lordship personated Jawleyford, and was showing Jack
(who was only a clumsy diplomatist) how to draw up to the sub-
ject of Sponge's pecuniary deficiencies, when the dirty old butler
came in with Jawleyford's note.
Mil. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 153
" "What's here ? " exclaimed his lordship, fearing from its
smartness, that it was from a lady. " What's here ? " repeated he,
as he inspected the direction. "0, it's for you!'1'' exclaimed he,
chucking it over to Jack, considerably relieved by the discovery.
" Me 1 " replied Jack. " Who can be writing to me ? " said he
squinting his eyes inside out at the seal. He opened it : " Jawley-
ford Court," read he. " Who the deuce can be writing to me
from Jawleyford Court when I'm going there ? "
" A put-off, for a guinea ! " exclaimed his lordship.
" Hope so," muttered Jack.
" Hope not," replied his lordship.
" It is ! " exclaimed Jack, reading, " Dear Mr. Spraggon," and
so on.
'• The humbug ! " muttered Lord Scamperdale ; adding, " I'll
be bound he's got no more influenza than I have."
" Well," observed Jack, sweeping a red cotton handkerchief,
with which he had been protecting his leathers, off into his pocket,
" there's an end of that."
" Don't go so quick," replied his lordship, ladling in the porridge.
" Quick ! " retorted Jack ; "why, what can you do ? "
" Do ! why, go to be sure," replied his lordship.
" How can I go," asked Jack, " when the sinner's written to
put me oft" ? "
" Nicely," replied his lordship, "nicely. I'll just send word
back by the servant that you had started before the note arrived,
but that you shall have it as soon as you return ; and you just
cast up there as if nothing had happened." So saying, his
lordship took hold of the whipcord-pull and gave the bell a peal.
" There's no beating you," observed Jack.
Bags now made his appearance again.
" Is the servant here that brought this note ? " asked his
lordship, holding it up.
" Yes, me lord," replied Bags.
" Then tell him to tell his master, with my compliments, that
Mr. Spraggon had set off for Jawleyford Court before it came, but
that he shall have it as soon as he returns — you understand ? "
*' Yes, me lord," replied Bags, looking at Jack supping up the
fat porridge, and wondering how the lie would go down with
Harry, who was then discussing his master's merits and a horn of
small beer with the lad who was going to drive Jack.
Jawleyford Court was twenty miles from Woodmansterne as the
crow flies, and any distance anybody liked to call it by the road.
The road, indeed, would seem to have been set out with a view of
getting as many hills and as little level ground over which a
traveller could make play as possible ; and where it did not lead
over the tops of the highest hills, it wound round their bases, in
154 MB. SPONGE'S SPOBTING TOUB.
such little, vexations, up-and-down, wavy dips as completely to do
away Avith all chance of expedition. The route was not along one
continuous trust, but here over a bit of turnpike and there over a
bit of turnpike, with ever and anon long interregnums of township
roads, repaired in the usual primitive style with mud and soft
field-stones, that turned up like flitches of bacon. A man would
travel from London to Exeter by rail in as short a time, and with
far greater ease, than he would drive from Lord Scamperdale's to
Jawleyford Court. His lordship being aware of this fact, and
thinking, moreover, it was no use trashing a good horse over such
roads, had desired Frcstyface to put an old spavined grey mare,
that he had bought for the kennel, into the dog-cart, and out of
which, his lordship thought, if he could get a day's work or two,
she would come all the cheaper to the boiler.
" That's a good-shaped beast," observed his lordship, as she now
came hitching round to the door ; " I really think she would make
a cover hack."
" Sooner you ride her than me," replied Jack, seeing his lord-
ship was coming the dealer over him — praising the shape when he
could say nothing for the action.
" Well, but she'll take you to Jawleyford Court as quick as the
best of them," rejoined his lordship; adding, "the roads are
wretched, and Jaw's stables are a disgrace to humanity — might as
well put a horse in a cellar."
" Well," observed Jack, retiring from the parlour window to his
little den along the passage, to put the finishing touch to his
toilet — the green cut-away and buff waistcoat, which he further
set off with a black satin stock — " Well," said he, " needs must
when a certain gentleman drives."
He presently re-appeared full fig, rubbing a fine new eight-and-
sixpenny flat-brimmed hat round and round with a substantial
puce-coloured bandana.
" Now for the specs ! " exclaimed he, with the gaiety of a man
in his Sunday's best, bound on a holiday trip. " Now for the
silver specs ! " repeated he.
" Ah, true," replied his lordship ; " I'd forgot the specs." (He
hadn't, only he thought his silver-mounted ones would be safer in
his keeping than in Jack's.) " I'd forgot the specs. However,
never mind, you shall have these," said he, taking his tortoise-
shell-rimmed ones off his nose and handing them to Jack.
"You promised me the silver ones," observed our friend Jack,
who wanted to be smart.
" Did I ? " replied his lordship ; " I declare I'd forgot. Ah,
yes, I believe I did," added he, with an air of sudden enlighten-
ment.— "the pair up stairs ; but how the deuce to get at them I
don't know, for the key of the Indian cabinet is locked in the old
MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 155
oak press in the still-room, and the key of the still-room is locked
away in the linen-press in the green lumber-room at the top of
the house, and the key of the green lumber-room is in a drawer ab
the bottom of the wardrobe in the Star-Chamber, and the — "
" Ah, well ; never mind," grunted Jack, interrupting the laby-
rinth of lies. " I dare say these will do, — I dare say these will
do," putting them on ; adding, " Now, if you'll lend me a shawl
for my neck, and a Macintosh, my name shall be WaUcer."
" Better make it Trotter" replied his lordship, " considering the
distance you have to go."
" Good," said Jack, mounting and driving away.
" It will be a blessing if we get there," observed Jack to the
liveried stable-lad, as the old bag of bones of a mare went hitching
and limping away.
" Oh, she can go when she's warm," replied the lad, taking her
across the ears with the point of the whip. The wheels followed
merrily over the sound, hard road through the park, and the gentle
though almost imperceptible fall of the ground giving an impetus to-
the vehicle, they bowled away as if they had four of the soundest,
freshest legs in the world before them, instead of nothing but a
belly-band between them and eternity.
When, however, they cleared the noble lodge and got upon the
unscraped mud of the Decpdebt turnpike, the pace soon slackened.,
and, instead of the gig running away with the old mare, she Avas
fairly brought to her collar. Being a game one, however, she
struggled on with a trot, till at length, turning up the deeply-
spurlinged clayey-bottomed cross-road between Rookgate and
Clamley, it was all she could do to drag the gig through the
holding mire. Bump, bump, jolt, jolt, creak, creak, went the
vehicle, Jack now diving his elbow into the lad's ribs, the lad now
diving his into Jack's ; both now threatening to go over on the
same side, and again both nearly chucked on to the old mare's
quarters. A sharp, cutting sleet, driving pins and needles directly
in their faces, further disconcerted our travellers. Jack felt
acutely for his new eight-and-sixpenny hat, it being the only
article of dress he had on of his own.
Long and tedious as was the road, weak and jaded as was the
mare, and long as Jack stopped at Starfield, he yet reached Jaw-
leyford Court before the messenger Harry.
As our friend Jawleyford was stamping about his study
anathematising a letter he had received from the solicitor to the
directors of the Doembrown and Sinkall Railway, informing him
that they were going to indulge in the winding-up act, he chanced
to look out of his window just as the contracted limits of a
winter's day were drawing the first folds of night's muslin curtain
over the landscape, when he espied a gig drawn by a white horse,
156 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
with a dot-and-go-one sort of action, hopping its way up the
slumpcy avenue.
" That's Buggins the bailiff," exclaimed he to himself, as the
recollection of an unanswered lawyer's letter flashed across his mind ;
and he was just darting off to the bell to warn Spigot not to admit
any one, when the lad's cockade standing in relief against the sky-
line, caused him to pause and gaze again at the unwonted apparition.
" Who the deuce can it be ? " asked he of himself, looking at his
watch, and seeing it was a quarter past four. " It surely can't be
my lord, or that Jack Spraggon coming after all ? " added he,
drawing out a telescope and opening a lancet-window.
" Spraggon as I live ! " exclaimed he as he caught Jack's harsh,
spectacled features, and saw him titivating his hair and arranging
his collar and stock as he approached.
" Well, that beats everything ! " exclaimed Jawleyford, burning
with rage, as he fastened the window again.
He stood for a few seconds transfixed to the spot, not knowing
what on earth to do. At last resolution came to his aid, and,
rushing up stairs to his dressing-room, he quickly divested himself
of his coat and waistcoat, and slipped on a dressing-gown and
night-cap. He then stood, door in hand, listening for the
arrival. He could just hear the gig grinding under the portico,
and distinguish Jack's gruff voice saying to the servant from the
top of the steps — " We'll start directly after breakfast, mind." A
tremendous peal of the bell immediacely followed, convulsing the
whole house, for nobody had seen the vehicle approaching, and
the establishment had fallen into the usual state of undress torpor
that intervenes between calling hours and dinner-time.
The bell not being answered as quickly as Jack expected, he
just opened the door himself ; and when Spigot arrived, with such
a force as he could raise at the moment, Jack was in the act of
" peeling " himself, as he called it.
" What time do we dine ? " asked he, with the air of a man with
the entree.
" Seven o'clock, my lord — that's to say, sir — that's to say, my
lord," for Spigot really didn't know whether it was Jack or his
master.
" Seven o'clock ! " muttered Jack. " What the deuce is the use
of dinin' at such an hour as that in winter ? "
Jack and my lord always dined as soon as they got home from
hunting. Jack, having got himself out of his wraps, and run his
bristles backwards with a pocket-comb, was ready for presen-
tation.
" What name shall I enounce ? " asked Mr. Spigot, fearful of
committing himself before the ladies.
"Muster Spraggon, to be sure," exclaimed Jack, thinking,
SPRAGGON S EMBASSY TO JAWI.EYFORP COURT.
[P. 156.
ME. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 157
because he knew who he was, that everybody else ought to know
too.
Spigot then led the way to the music-room.
The peal at the bell had caused a suppressed commotion in the
apartment. Buried in the luxurious depths of a well-cushioned
low chair, Mr. Sponge sat, "Mogg" in hand, with a toe cocked
up, now dipping leisurely into his work — now Avhispering some-
thing sweet into Amelia's ear, who sat with her crochet-work at
his side ; while Emily played the piano, and Mrs. Jawleyford kept
in the background, in the discreet way mothers do when there is
a little business going on. The room was in that happy state of
misty light that usually precedes the entrance of candles — a
light that no one likes to call darkness, lest their eyes might be
supposed to be failing. It is a convenient light, however, for a
timid stranger, especially where there are not many footstools set
to trip him up — an exemption, we grieve to say, not accorded to
every one.
Though Mr. Spraggou was such a cool, impudent fellow with
men, he was the most awkward, frightened wretch among ladies-
that ever was seen. His conversation consisted principally of
coughing. " Hem ! " — cough — " yes, mum," — hem — cough,
cough — "the day," — hem — cough — "mum, is" — hem — cough —
"very," — hem — cough — "mum, cold." But we will introduce
him to our family circle.
" Mr. Spraggon ! " exclaimed Spigot, in a tone equal to the-
one in which Jack had announced himself in the entrance ; and
forthwith there was such a stir in the twilit apartment — such
suppressed exclamations of —
" Mr. Spraggou ! — Mr. Spraggon ! What can bring him
here ? "
Our traveller's creaking boots and radiant leathers eclipsing
the sombre habiliments of Mr. Spigot, Mrs. Jawleyford quickly
rose from her Pembroke writing-desk, and proceeded to greet him.
" My daughters I think you know, Mr. Spraggon ; also Mr.
Sponge ? Mr. Spraggon," continued she, with a wave of her hand
to where our hero was ensconced in his form, in case they should
not have made each other's speaking acquaintance.
The young ladies rose, and curtsied prettily ; while Mr. Sponge
gave a sort of backward hitch of his head as he sat in his chair,
as much as to say, "I know as much of Mr. Spraggon as I
want."
"Tell your master Mr. Spraggon is here," added Mrs. Jawley-
ford to Spigot, as that worthy was leaving the room. "It's a
cold day, Mr. Spraggon ; won't you come near the fire ?" continued
Mrs. Jawleyford, addressing our friend, who had come to a full
stop just under the chandelier in the centre of the room.
158 MB. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR.
" Hem — cough — hem — thank yc, mum," muttered Jack. " I'm
not — hem — cough — cold, thank ye, mum." His face and hands
were purple notwithstanding.
"How is my Lord Scamperdale ?" asked Amelia, who had a
strong inclination to keep in with all parties.
" Hem — cough — hem — my lord — that's to say my lady — hem
— cough — I mean to say, my lord's pretty well, thank ye," stuttered
Jack.
" Is he coming ? " asked Amelia.
"Hem — cough — Item — my lord's — hem — not well — cough — no —
Item — I mean to say — hem — cough — my lord's gone — hem — to dine
— cough — hem — with his — cough — friend Lord Bubbley Jock — hem
— cough — I mean Barker — cough."
Jack and Lord Scamperdale were so in the habit of calling his
ilordship by this nickname, that Jack let it slip, or rather cough
•out, inadvertently.
In due time Spigot returned, with "Master's compliments, and
he was very sorry, but he was so unwell that he was quite unable
■to see any one."
" Oh, dear ! " exclaimed Mrs. Jawleyford.
" Poor pa ! " lisped Amelia.
" What a pity ! " observed Mr. Sponge.
"I must go and see him," observed Mrs. Jawleyford, hurrying off.
"Hem — cough — hem — hope he's not much — hem — damaged?"
•observed Jack.
The old lady being thus got rid of, and Jawleyford disposed of
— apparently for the night — Mr. Spraggon felt more comfortable,
and presently yielded to Amelia's entreaties to come near the fire
and thaw himself. Spigot brought candles, and Mr. Sponge sat
moodily in his chair, alternately studying Mogg's " Cab Fares " —
" Old Bailey, Newgate-street, to or from the Adelphi, the Terrace,
Is. Gd. ; Admiralty, 2s. ; " and so on ; and hazarding promiscuous
sidelong sort of observations, that might be taken up by Jack or
not, as he liked. He seemed determined to pay Mr. Jack off for
his out-of-door impudence. Amelia, on the other hand, seemed
desirous of making up for her suitor's rudeness, and kept talking
to Jack with an assiduity that perfectly astonished her sister,
who had always heard her speak of him with the utmost
abhorrence.
Mrs. Jawleyford found her husband in a desperate state of
excitement, his influenza being greatly aggravated by Harry having
returned very drunk, with the mare's knees desperately broken
" by a fall," as Harry hiccuped out, or by his " throwing her
down," as Jawleyford declared. Horses fall with their masters,
servants throw them down. What a happiness it is when people
•can send their servants on errands by coaches or railways, instead
ME. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 159
of being kept on the fidget all day, lest a fifty-pound horse should
be the price of a bodkin or a basket of fish !
Amelia's condescension quite turned Jack's head ; and when he
went up-stairs to dress, he squinted at his lordship's best clothes,
all neatly laid out for him on the bed, with inward satisfaction at
having brought them.
" Dash me ! " said he, " I really think that girl has a fancy for
me." Then he examined himself minutely in the glass, brushed
his whiskers up into a curve on his cheeks, the curves almost
corresponding with the curve of his spectacles above ; then he gave
his bristly, porcupine-shaped head a backward rub with a sort of
thing like a scrubbing-brush. " If I'd only had the silver specs,"
thought he, " I should have done."
He then began to dress ; an operation that ever and anon was
interrupted by the outburst of volleys of smoke from the little
spluttering, smouldering fire, in the little shabby room Jawleyford
insisted on having him put into.
Jack tried all things — opening the window and shutting the
door, shutting the window and opening the door ; but fiuding
that, instead of curing it, he only produced the different degrees
of comparison — bad, worse, worst, — he at length shut both, and
applied himself vigorously to dressing. He soon got into his stockings
and pumps, also his black Saxony trousers ; then came a fine black
lace fringed cravat, and the damson-coloured velvet waistcoat with
the cut-steel buttons.
" Dash me, but I look pretty well in this ! " said he, eying first
one side and then the other as he buttoned it. He then stuck a
chased and figured fine gold brooch, with two pendant tassel-
drops, set with turquoise and agates, that he had abstracted from
his lordship's dressing-case, into his, or rather his lordship's, finely-
worked shirt-front, and crowned the toilet with his lordship's best
new blue coat with velvet collar, silk facings, and the Flat Hat Hunt
button—4' a striding fox," with the letters " F. H. H." below.
''Who shall say Mr. Spraggon's not a gentleman ? " said he, as
he perfumed one of his lordship's fine coronettcd cambric handker-
chiefs with lavender-water. Scent, in Jack's opinion, was one of
the criterions of a gentleman.
Somehow Jack felt quite differently towards the house of Jaw-
leyford ; and though he did not expect much pleasure in Mr.
Sponge's company, he thought, nevertheless, that the ladies and
he — Amelia and he at least — would get on very well. Forgetting
that he had come to eject Sponge on the score of insufficiency, he
really began to think he might be a very desirable match for one
of them himself.
1<X>
MR. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR.
CHAPTER XXVI.
MR. SPRAGGON AT JAWLEYFORD COURT.
THE Spraggons
are a most
respectable
family," said
he, eyeing him-
self in the glass.
" If not very
handsome, at
all events, very
genteel," added
he, speaking of
himself in par-
ticular. So say-
ing, he adorned
himself with his
spectacles and
setoff to explore,
his way down
stairs. After
divers mistakes
he at length
found himself
in the drawing-
room, where
the rest of the
party being
assembled, they
presently pro-
ceeded to din-
ner.
Jack's amended costume did not produce any difference in Mr.
Sponge's behaviour, who treated him with the utmost indifference.
In truth, Sponge had rather a large balance against Jack for his
impudence to him in the field. Nevertheless, the fair Amelia-
continued her attentions, and talked of hunting, occasionally
diverging into observations on Lord Scamperdale's fine riding and
manly character and appearance, in the roundabout way ladies send
their messages and compliments to their friends.
The dinner was flat. Jawleyford had stopped the champagne
ENTER MR. JACK SPRAQCON, FULL DRESS.
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 1G1
tap, though the needle-case glasses stood to tantalise the party till
about the time that the beverage ought to have been flowing, when
Spigot took them off. The flatness then became flatter. Never-
theless, Jack worked away in his usual carnivorous style, and
finished by paying his respects to all the sweets, jellies, and things
in succession. He never got any of these, he said, at " home,"
meaning at Lord Scamperdale's — Amelia thought, if she wTas "my
lady," he would not get any meat there either.
At length Jack finished ; and having discussed cheese, porter,
and red herrings, the cloth was drawn, and a hard-featured dessert,
ounsisting principally of apples, followed. The wine having made
a couple of melancholy circuits, the strained conversation about
came to a full stop, and Spigot having considerately placed the
little round table, as if to keep the peace between them, the ladies
left the male worthies to discuss their port and sherry together.
Jack, according to Woodmansterne fashion, unbuttoned his waist-
coat, and stuck his legs out before him, — an example that Mr.
Sponge quickly followed, and each assumed an attitude that as
good as said, " I don't care twopence for you." A dead silence
then prevailed, interrupted only by the snap, snap, snapping of
Jack's toothpick against his chair-edge, when he was not busy
exploring his mouth with it. It seemed to be a match which
should keep silence longest. Jack sat squinting his eyes inside out
at Sponge, while Sponge pretended to be occupied with the fire.
The wine being with Sponge, and at length wanting some, he was
constrained to make the first move, by passing it over to Jack, who
helped himself to port and sherry simultaneously — a glass of
sherry after dinner (in Jack's opinion) denoting a gentleman.
Having smacked his lips over that, he presently turned to the glass
of port. He checked his hand in passing it to his mouth, and bore
the glass up to his nose.
" Corlced, by Jove ! " exclaimed he, setting the glass down on the
table with a thump of disgust.
It is curious what unexpected turns things sometimes take in the
world, and how completely whole trains of well-preconcerted plans
are often turned aside by mere accidents such as this. If it hadn't
'.»een for the corked bottle of port, there is no saying but these two
worthies would have held a Quakers' meeting without the "spirit"
moving either of them.
" Corked, by Jove ! " exclaimed Jack.
" It is ! " rejoined Sponge, smelling at his half-emptied glass.
" Better have another bottle," observed Jack.
" Certainly," replied Sponge, ringing the bell. " Spigot, this
wine's corked," observed Sponge, as old Pomposo entered the room.
" Is it ? " said Spigot, with the most peifect innocence, though
he knew it came out of the corked batch. " I'll brine: another
1G2 HE. SPONGE'S SPOETING TOUR.
bottle," added be, carrying it off as if be bad a wbole pipe at
command, though in reality he bad but another out. Tins
fortunately was less corked than the first ; and Jack having
given an approving smack of his great thick lips, Mr. Sponge took
it on his judgment, and gave a nod to Spigot, who forthwith took
his departure.
" Old trick that," observed Jack, with a shake of the head, as
Spigot shut the door.
" Is it ? " observed Mr. Sponge, taking up the observation,
though in reality it was addressed to the lire.
" Noted for it" replied Jack, squinting at the sideboard, though
he was staring intently at Sponge to see how he took it.
" Well, I thought we had a bottle with a queer smatch the other
night," observed Sponge.
" Old Blossomnose corked half-a-dozen in succession one night,"
replied Jack.
(He had corked three, but Jawleyford recorked them, and Spigot
was now reproducing them to our friends.)
Although they had now got the ice broken, and entered into
something like a conversation, it nevertheless went on very slowly,
and they seemed to weigh each word before it Avas uttered. Jack,
too, had time to run his peculiar situation through his mind, and
ponder on his mission from Lord Scamperdale — on his lordship's
detestation of Mr. Sponge, his anxiety to get rid of him, his
promised corner in his will, and his lordship's hint about buying
Sponge's horses if he could not get rid of him in any other way.
Sponge, on his part, was thinking if there was any possibility of
turning Jack to account.
It may seem strange to the uninitiated that there should be
prospect of gain to a middle-man in the matter of a horse-deal, save
in the legitimate trade of auctioneers and commission stable-
keepers ; but we arc sorry to say we have known men calling
themselves gentlemen, who have not thought it derogatory to
accept a " trifle " for their good offices in the cause. " I can buy
cheaper than you," they say, "and we may as well divide the trifle
between us."
That was Mr. Spraggon's principle, only that the word " trifle "
inadequately conveys his opinion on the point ; Jack's notion
being that a man was entitled to 5/. per cent, as of right, and as
much more as he could get.
It was not often that Jack got a "bite" at my lord, which,
perhaps, made him think it the more incumbent on him not a miss
an opportunity. Having been told, of course he knew exactly the
style of man he bad to deal with in Mr. Sponge — a style of men of
whom there is never any difficulty in asking if they will sell their
horses, price being the only consideration. They arc, indeed, a
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 1G3
sort of unlicensed horse-dealers, from whose presence few hunts are
wholly free. Mr. Spraggon thought, if he could get Sponge to
make it worth his while to get my lord to buy his horses, the —
whatever he might get — would come in very comfortably to pay
his Christmas bills.
By the time the bottle drew to a close, our friends were rather
better friends, and seemed more inclined to fraternise. Jack had
the advantage of Sponge, for he could stare, or rather squint, at
him without Sponge knowing it. The pint of wine apiece — at
least as near a pint apiece as Spigot could afford to let them have —
somewhat strung Jack's nerves as well as his eyes, and he began to
show more of the pupils and less of the whites than he did. He
buzzed the bottle with such a hearty good will as settled the fate of
another, Avhich Sponge rang for as a matter of course. There was
but the rejected one, which, however, Spigot put into a different
decanter, and brought in with such an air as precluded either of
them saying a word in disparagement of it.
" Where are the hounds next week ? " asked Sponge, sipping
away at it.
" Monday, Larkhall Hill ; Tuesday, the cross-roads by Dallington
Burn ; Thursday, the Toll-bar at Whitburrow Green ; Saturday,
the kennels," replied Jack.
" Good places ? " asked Sponge.
" Monday's good," replied Jack ; " draw Thorney Gorse — sure
find ; second draw, Barnlow Woods, and home by Loxley, Padmore,
and so on."
" What sort of a place is Tuesday ? "
" Tuesday ? " repeated Jack. " Tuesday ! Oh, that's the cross
roads. Capital place, unless the fox takes to Rumborrow Craigs,
or gets into Seedeywood Forest, when there's an end of it — at
least an end of everything except pulling one's horse's legs off in
the stiff clayey rides. It's a long way from here, though,"
observed Jack.
" How far ? " asked Sponge.
" Good twenty miles," replied Jack. "It's sixteen from us ; it'll
be a good deal more from here."
" His lordship will lay out overnight, then ? " observed Sponge.
" Not he," replied Jack. " Takes better care of his sixpences
than that. Up in the dark, breakfast by candle-light, grope our
ways to the stable, and blunder along the deep lanes, and .through
.all the bye-roads in the country — get there somehow or another."
" Keen hand ! " observed Sponge.
" Mad ! " replied Jack.
They then paid their mutual respects to the port.
" He hunts there on Tuesdays," observed Jack, setting down his
•glass, " so that he may have ail Wednesday to get home in, and be
li 2
1G4 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
sure of appearing on Thursday. There's no saying where he may
finish with a cross-roads' meet."
By the time the worthies had finished the bottle, they had got
a certain way into each other's confidence. The hint Lord
Scarnperdale had given about buying Sponge's horses still occupied
Jack's mind ; and the more he considered the subject, and the
worth of a corner in his lordship's will, the more sensible he
became of the truth of the old adage, that " a bird in the hand is
worth two in the bush." " My Lord," thought Jack, " promises
fair, but it is tut a chance, and a remote one. He may live many
years — as long, perhaps longer, than me. Indeed, he puts me on
horses that are anything but calculated to promote longevity.
Then he may marry a wife who may eject me, as some wives do
eject their husbands' agreeable friends ; or he may change his-
mind, and leave me nothing after all."
All things considered, Jack came to the conclusion that he
should not be doing himself justice if he did not take advantage-
of such fair opportunities as chance placed in his way, and there-
fore he thought he might as well be picking up a penny during-
his lordship's life, as be waiting for a contingency that might never
occur. Mr. Jawleyford's indisposition preventing Jack making
the announcement he was sent to do, made it incumbent on himr
as he argued, to see what could be done with the alternative his
lordship had proposed — namely, buying Sponge's horses. At
least, Jack salved his conscience over with the old plea of duty -r
and had come to that conclusion as he again helped himself to
the last glass in the bottle.
" Would you like a little claret ? " asked Sponge with all the
hospitality of a host.
" No, hang your claret ! " replied Jack.
"A little brandy, perhaps ?" suggested Sponge.
" I shouldn't mind a glass of brandy," replied Jack, " by way of
a nightcap."
Spigot, at this moment entering to announce tea and coffee,
was interrupted in his oration by Sponge demanding some-
brandy.
" Sorry," replied Spigot, pretending to be quite taken by surprise
" very sorry, sir — but, sir — master, sir — bed, sir— disturb him,
sir.
" Oh, dask it, never mind that ! " exclaimed Jack ; tell him Mr.
Sprag — Sprag — Spraggon " (the bottle of port beginning to make-
Jack rather inarticulate)— "tell him Mr. Spraggon wants a little."
" Dursn't disturb him, sir," responded Spigot, with a shake of
his head ; " Much as my place, sir, is worth, sir."
" Haven't you a little drop in your pantry, think you ? " asked
Sponge.
ME. SPONGE'S SPOETING TOUli. 165
" The coolc perhaps has," replied Mr. Spigot, as if it was quite
out of his line.
" Well, go and ask her," said Sponge ; " and bring some hot
water and things, the same as we had last night, you know."
Mr. Spigot retired, and presently returned, bearing a tray with
three-quarters of a bottle of brandy, which he impressed upon
their minds was the "cook's own."
" I dare say," hiccupped Jack, holding the bottle up to the light.
" Hope she wasn't using it herself," observed Sponge.
"Tell her we'll (hiccup) her health," hiccupped Jack, pouring a
liberal potation into his tumbler.
" That'll be all you'll do, I dare say," muttered Spigot to him-
self, as he sauntered back to his pantry.
" Does Jaw stand smoking ? " asked Jack, as Spigot disappeared.
" Oh I should think so," replied Sponge ; " a friend like yon,
I'm sure, would be welcome " — Sponge thinking to indulge in a
cigar, and lay the blame on Jack.
" Well, if you think so," said Jack, pulling out his cigar-case, or
rather his lordship's, and staggering to the chimney-piece for a
match, though there was a candle at his elbow, " I'll have a pipe."
" So'll I," said Sponge, " if you'll give me a cigar."
"Much yours as mine," replied Jack, handing him his lordship's
richly embroidered case with coronets and ciphers on either side,
the p;ift of one of the many would-be Lady Scamperdales.
" Want a light ! " hiccupped Jack, who had now got a glow-
worm end to his.
"Thanks," said Sponge, availing himself of the friendly overture.
Our friends now whiffed and puffed away together — whiffing
and puffing where whiffing and puffing had never been known
before. The brandy began to disappear pretty quickly ; it was
better than the wine.
" That's a n — n — nice — ish horse of yours," stammered Jack, as
he mixed himself a second tumbler.
" Which ? " asked Sponge.
" The bur — bur — brown," spluttered Jack.
" He is that,'''' replied Sponge ; "best horse in this country by far."
" The che— che — chest — nut's not a ba— ba — bad un, I dare
say," observed Jack.
'" No, he's not," replied Sponge ; " a deuced good un."
" I know a man who's rather s — s — s — sweet on the b — b — br —
brown," observed Jack, squinting frightfully.
Sponge sat silent for a few seconds, pretending to be wrapt up
in his " sublime tobacco."
" Is he a buyer, or just a jawer ? " he asked at last.
" Oh, a buyer" replied Jack.
" I'll sell" said Sponge, with a strong emphasis on the sclL
100 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
" How much ? " asked Jack, sobering ^vitli the excitement.
" Which ? " asked Sponge.
" The brown," rejoined Jack.
" Three hundred," said Sponge ; adding, " I gave two for him."
" Indeed ! " said Jack.
A long pause then ensued, Jack thinking whether he should put
the question boldly as to what Sponge would give him for effecting
a sale, or should beat about the bush a little. At last he thought
it would be most prudent to beat about the bush, and see if Sponge
would make an offer.
"Well," said Jack, " I'll s — s — s— see what I can do."
" That's a good fellow," said Sponge ; adding, " I'll remember
you if you do."
" I dare say I can s — s — s— sell them both, for that matter,"
observed Jack, encouraged by the promise.
" "Well," replied Sponge, " I'll take the same for the chestnut ;
there isn't the toss-up of a halfpenny for choice between them."
"Well," said Jack, " we'll s — s — s — see them next week."
" Just so," said Sponge.
" You r — r — ride well up to the h — h — hounds," continued Jack,
"and let his lordship s — s — see w — w — what they can do."
" I will," said Sponge, wishing he was at work.
" Never mind his rowing," observed Jack ; " he c — c — can't
help it."
" Not I," replied Sponge, puffing away at his cigar.
When men once begin to drink brandy-and-water (after wine)
there's an end of all note of time. Our friends — for we " may now
call them so," sat sip, sip, sipping — mix, mix, mixing ; now
strengthening, now weakening, now warming, now flavouring, till
they had not only finished the hot water but a large jug of cold,
that graced the centre of the table between two frosted tumblers,
and had nearly got through the brandy too.
" May as well fi — fi — fin — nish the bottle," observed Jack, hold-
ing it up to the candle. "Just a fchi — thi — thim — bleful apiece,"
added he, helping himself to about three-quarters of what there was.
"You've taken your share," observed Sponge, as the bottle
suspended payment before he got half the quantity that Jack had.
" Sque — ee — eze it," replied Jack, suiting the action to the word,
and working away at an exhausted lemon.
At length they finished.
" Well, I s'pose we may as well go and have some tea," observed
Jack.
" It's not announced yet," said Sponge, " but I make no doubt
it will be ready."
So saying, the worthies rose, and, after sundry bumps and
certain irregularities of course, they each succeeded in reaching-
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 167
the door. The passage lamp had died out and filled the corridor
with its fragrance. Sponge, however, knew the way, and the dark-
ness favoured the adjustment of cravats and the fingering of hair.
Having got up a sort of drunken simper, Sponge opened the drawing-
room door, expecting to find smiling ladies in a blaze of light. All,
however, was darkness, save the expiring embers in the grate. The
tick, tick, tick, ticking of the clocks sounded wonderfully clear.
" Gone to bed ! " exclaimed Sponge.
" Who-hoop ! " shrieked Jack, at the top of his voice.
" "What's smatter, gentlemen ? — What's smatter ? " exclaimed
Spigot rushing in, rubbing his eyes with one hand, and holding
a block tin candlestick in the other.
" Nothin'," replied Jack, squinting his eyes inside out ; adding,
" Get me a devilled — " (hiccup)
" Don't know how to do them here, sir," snapped Spigot.
" Devilled turkey's leg though you do, you rascal ! " rejoined
Jack, doubling his fists and putting himself in posture.
"Beg pardon, sir," replied Spigot, "but the cook, sir, is gone
to bed, sir. Do you know, sir, what o'clock it is, sir ? "
"No," replied Jack.
" What time is it ? " asked Sponge.
" Twenty minutes to two," replied Spigot, holding up a sort of
pocket warming-pan, which he called a watch.
" The deuce," exclaimed Sponge.
"Who'd ha' thought it ?" muttered Jack.
" Well then, I suppose we may as well go to bed," observed
Sponge.
" S'pose so," replied Jack ; " nothin' more to get."
" Do you know your room ? " asked Sponge.
" To be sure I do," replied Jack ; " don't think I'm d — d — dr —
drunk, do you ? "
" Not likely," rejoined Sponge.
Jack then commenced a very crab-like ascent of the stairs,
which fortunately were easy, or he would never have got up. Mr.
Sponge, who still occupied the state apartments, took leave of
Jack at his own door, and Jack went bumping and blundering on
in search of the branch passage leading to his piggery. He found
the green baize door that usually distinguishes the entrance to
these secondary suites, and was presently lurching along its con-
tracted passage. As luck would have it, however, he got into his
host's dressing-room, where that worthy slept ; and when Jawley-
ford jumped up in the morning, as was his wont, to see what sort
of a day it wTas, he trod on Jack's face, who had fallen down in his
clothes alongside of the bed, and Jawleyf ord broke Jack's spectacles
across the bridge of his nose.
" Rot it ! " roared Jack jumping up, " don't ride over a fellow
168 ME. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR.
that way ! " when, shaking himself to try whether any litnhs were
broken, he found he was in his dress clothes instead of in the roomy
garments of the Flat Hat Hunt. " Who are you ? where am I ?
what the deuce do you mean by breaking my specs ? " he exclaimed,
squinting frightfully at his host.
" My dear sir," exclaimed Mrs Jawleyford, from the top of his
night-shirt, " I'm very sorry, but "
" Hang your huts ! you shouldn't ride so near a man ! " exclaimed
Jack, gathering np the fragments of his spectacles ; when, recollect-
ing himself, he finished by say, " Perhaps I'd better go to my own
room."
" Perhaps you had," replied Mr. Jawleyford, advancing towards
the door to show him the way.
"Let me have a candle," said Jack, preparing to follow.
'•'Candle, my clear fellow! why it's broad daylight," replied his host.
"Is it ? " said Jack, apparently unconscious of the fact.
" What's the hour ? "
" Five minutes to eight," replied Jawleyford, looking at a
timepiece.
When Jack got into his own den he threw himself into an old
invalid chair, and sat rubbing the fractured spectacles together as
if he thought they would unite by friction, though in reality he
was endeavouring to run the overnight's proceedings through his
mind. The more he thought of Amelia's winning ways, the more
satisfied he was that he had made an impression, and then the
more vexed he was at having his spectacles broken : for though
he considered himself very presentable without them, still he
could not but feel that they were a desirable addition. Then, too
he had a splitting headache ; and finding that breakfast was not
till ten and might be a good deal later, all things considered, he
determined to be off and follow up his success under more favour-
able auspices. Considering that all the clothes he had with him
were his lordship's, he thought it immaterial which he went home
in, so to save trouble he just wrapped himself up in his mackintosh
and travelled in the dress ones he had on.
It was fortunate for Mr. Sponge that he went, for, when Jawley-
ford smelt the indignity that had been offered to his dining-room,
he broke out in such a torrent of indignation as would have been
extremely unpleasant if there had not been some one to lay the
blame on. Indeed, he was not particularly gracious to Mr. Sponge
as it was ; but that arose, as much from certain dark hints that
had worked their way from the servants' hall into "my lady's
chamber" as to our friend's pecuniary resources and prospects.
Jawleyford began to suspect that Sponge might not be quite the
great " catch " he was represented.
Beyond, however, putting a few searching questions — which
MB. SPONGE'S SPOUTING Tori;.
L69
Mr. Sponge skilfully parried — advising his daughters to be cautious,
lessening the number of lights, and lowering the scale of his enter-
tainments generally, Mr. Jawleyford did not take any decided step
in the matter. Mr. Spraggon comforted Lord Scamperdale with
the assurance that Amelia had no idea of Sponge, who he made no
doubt would very soon be out of the country — -and his lordship
went to church and prayed most devoutly for him to go.
CHAPTER XXVII.
MR. AND MRS. SrRIXGWHEAT.
" Lord Scamperdale's foxhounds meet on Monday at Larkhall Hill," &c. &c.
County Piprr.
\
/s/'vjN/^/Vf^
>n w,; ;'^f ^v^
„ c~
sl'HINCWUKAT S FIVE-YEAR-OLD HORSE.
The Flat Hat Hunt had relapsed into its wonted quiet, and
" Larkhall Hill " saw none but the regular atteudants, men
without the slightest particle of curve in their hats — hats, indeed,
that looked as if the owners sat upon them when they hadn\ them
170 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
on their heads. There was Fyle, and Fossick, and Blossomnose,
and Sparks, and Joyce, and Capon, and Dribble, and a few
others, but neither Washball nor Puffing-ton, nor any of the holi-
day birds.
Precisely at ten, my lord, and his hounds, and his huntsman,
and his whips, and his Jack, trotted round Farmer Springwheat's
spacious back premises, and appeared in due form before the green
rails in front. " Pride attends us all," as the poet says ; and if
his lordship had ridden into the yard, and halloaed out for a glass
of home-brewed, Springwheat would have trapped every fox on his
farm, and the blooming Mrs. Springwheat would have had an
interminable poultry-bill against the hunt ; whereas, simply by
"making things pleasant," — that is to say, coming to breakfast
— Springwheat saw his corn trampled on, nay, led the way over it
himself, and Mrs. Springwheat saw her Dorkings disappear with-
out a murmur — unless, indeed, an inquiry when his lordship would
be coming could be considered in that light.
Larkhall Hill stood in the centre of a circle, on a gentle eminence,
commanding a view over a farm whose fertile fields and well-trimmed
fences sufficiently indicated its boundaries, and looked indeed as
if all the good of the country had come up to it. It was green
and luxuriant even in winter, while the strong cane-coloured
stubbles showed what a crop there had been. Turnips as big as
cheeses swelled above the ground. In a little narrow dell, whose
existence was more plainly indicated from the house by several
healthy spindling larches shooting up from among the green gorsc,
was the cover — an almost certain find, with the almost equal
certainty of a run from it. It occupied both sides, of the sandy,
rabbit-frequented dell, through which ran a sparkling stream, and
it possessed the great advantage to foot-people of letting them see
the fox found. Larkhall Hill, was, therefore a favourite both with
horse and foot. So much good — at all events so much well-farmed
land would seem to justify a better or more imposing-looking house,
the present one consisting, exclusive of the projecting garret ones
in the Dutch tile roof, of the usual four windows and a door, that
so well tell their own tale ; passage in the middle, staircase in
front, parlour on the right, best ditto on the left, with rooms to
correspond above. To be sure, there was a great depth of house
to the back ; but this in no way contributed to the importance
of the front, from which point alone the Springwheats chose to
have it contemplated. If the back arrangements could have been
divided, and added to the sides, they would have made two very
good wings to the old red brick rose-entwined mansion. Having
mentioned that its colour was red, it is almost superfluous to add
that the door and rails were green.
This was a busy morning at Larkhall Hill. It was the first day
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 171
of the season of my lord's hounds meeting there, and the handsome
Mrs. Springwheat liad had as much trouble in overhauling' the
china and linen, and in dressing the children, preparatory to
breakfast, as Springwheat had had in collecting knives and forks,
and wine-glasses and tumblers for his department of the entertain-
ment, to say nothing of looking after his new tops and cords.
"The Hill," as the country people call it, was "full fig" ; and a
bright, balmy winter's day softened the atmosphere, and felt as
though a summer's day had been shaken out of its place into
winter. It is not often that the English climate is accommodating
enough to lend its aid to set off' a place to advantage.
Be that, however, as it may, things looked smiling both without
and within. Mrs. Springwheat, by dint of early rising and
superintendence, had got things into such a state of forwardness
as to be able to adorn herself with a little jaunty cap — curious in
microscopic punctures and cherry-coloured ribbon interlardments,
— placed so far back on her finely-shaped head as to proclaim
beyond all possibility of cavil that it was there for ornament, and
not for the purpose of concealing the liberties of time with her
well-kept, clearly-parted, raven-black hair. Liberties of time,
forsooth ! Mrs. Springwheat was in the hcighday of womanhood ;
and though she had presented Springwheat with twins three times
in succession, besides an eldest son, she was as young, fresh-looking,
and finely-figured as she was the day she was married. She was
now dressed in a very fine French grey merino, with a very small
crochet-work collar, and, of course, capacious muslin sleeves.
The high flounces to her dress set off her smart waist to great
advantage.
Mrs. Springwheat had got everything ready, and herself too,
by the time Lord Scamperdale's second horseman rode into the
vard and demanded a stall for his horse. Knowing how soon the
balloon follows the pilot, she immediately ranged the Stunner-
tartan-clad children in the breakfast-room ; and as the first whip's
rate sounded as he rode round the corner, she sank into an easy-
chair by the fire, with a lace-fringed kerchief in the one hand, and
the Mark Lane Express in the other.
" Halloa ! Springey ! " followed by the heavy crack of a whip,
announced the arrival of his lordship before the green palings ;
and a loud view halloa burst from Jack, as the object of inquiry
was seen dancing about the open windowed room above, with his
face all flushed with the exertion of pulling on a very tight boot.
" Come in, my lord ! pray, come in! The missis is below!"
exclaimed Springwheat, from the window ; and just at the moment
the pad-groom emerged from the house, and ran to his lordship's
horse's head.
His lordship and Jack then dismounted, and gave their hacks
172 ME., SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
in charge of the servant ; while Wake, and Fyle, and Archer, who
were also of the party, scanned the countenances of the surround-
ing idlers, to see in whose hands they had best confide their nags.
In Lord Scamperdale stamped, followed by his trainband bold,
and Maria, the maid, being duly stationed in the passage, threw
open the parlour-door on the left, and discovered Mrs. Springwheat
sitting in attitude.
" Well, my lady, and how are you ? " exclaimed his lordship,
advancing gaily, and seizing both her pretty hands as she rose to
receive him. " I declare, you look younger and prettier every
time I see you."
" Oh ! my lord," simpered Mrs. Springwheat, " you gentlemen
are always so complimentary."
"Not a bit of it ! " exclaimed his lordship, eyeing her intently
through his silver spectacles, for he had been obliged to let Jack
have the other pair of tortoiseshell-rimmed ones.
" Not a bit of it," repeated his lordship. " I always tell Jack
you are the handsomest woman in Christendom ; don't I, Jack ? "
inquired his Lordship, appealing to his factotum.
" Yes, my lord," replied Jack, who always swore to whatever his
lordship said.
"By Jove ! " continued his lordship, with a stamp of his foot,
" if I could find such a woman I'd marry her to-morrow. Not
such women as you to pick up every day. And what a lot of
pretty pups ! " exclaimed his lordship, starting back, pretending
to be struck with the row of staring, black-haired, black-eyed,
half-frightened children. " Now, that's what I call a good entry,"
continued his lordship, scrutinising them attentively, and pointing
them out to Jack : "all dogs — all boys, I mean ? " added he.
"No, my lord," replied Mrs. Springwheat, laughing, "these
are girls," laying her hand on the heads of two of them, who were
now full giggle at the idea of being taken for boys.
" Well, they're devilish handsome, anyhow," replied his lordship,
thinking he might as well be done with the inspection.
Springwheat himself now made his appearance, as fine a sample
of a man as his wife was of a woman. His face was flushed with
the exertion of pulling on his tight boots, and his lordship felt the
creases the hooks had left as he shook him by the hand.
" Well, Springey," said he, " I was just asking your wife after
the new babby."
"Oh, thank you, my lord," replied Springey, with a shake of
his curly head ; " thank you, my lord ; no new babbies, my lord,
with wheat below forty, my lord."
" Well, but you've got a pair of new boots, at all events,"
observed his lordship, eyeing Springwheat's refractory calves
bugging over the top3 of them.
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 173
"'Deed have I!" replied Springwheat ; "and a pair of
uncommon awkward tight customers they are," added he, trying
to move his feet about in them.
" Ah ! you should always have a chap to wear your boots a few
times before you put them on yourself," observed his lordship.
" I never have a pair of tight uns," added he ; "Jack here always
does the needful by mine."
"That's all very well for lords," replied Mr. Springwheat ; "but
us farmers wear out our boots fast enough ourselves, without any-
body to help us."
""Well, but I s'pose we may as well fall to," observed his
lordship, casting his eye upon the well-garnished table. " All
these good things are meant to eat, I s'pose," added he : " cakes.
and sweets, and jellies without end : and as to your sideboard,"
said he, turning round and looking at it, " it's a match for any
Lord Mayor's. A round of beef, a ham, a tongue, and is that a
goose or a turkey ? "
"A turkey, my lord," replied Springwheat ; "home-fed, my lord."
"Ah, home-fed, indeed ! " ejaculated his lordship, with a shake
of the head: "home-fed: wish I could feed at home. The man
who said that
E'en from the peasant to the lord,
The turkey smokes on every board,
told a big un, for I'm sure none ever smokes on mine."
" Take a little here to-day, then," observed Mr. Springwheat
cutting deep into the white breast.
" I will," replied his lordship, " I will ; and a slice of tongue,
too," added he.
" There are some hot sausingers comin'," observed Mr. Sprino-
wheat.
•' You don't say so," replied his lordship, apparently thunder-
struck at the announcement. " Well, I must have all three. By
Jove, Jack ! " said he, appealing to his friend, " but you've lit on
your legs coming here. Here's a breakfast fit to set before the
Queen — muffins, and crumpets, and cakes. Let me advise you to
make the best use of your time, for you have but twenty minutes,"
continued his lordship, looking at his watch, "and muffins and
crumpets don't come in your way every day."
" 'Deed they don't," replied Jack, with a grin.
" Will your lordship take tea or coffee ? " asked Mrs. Spring-
wheat, who had now taken her seat at the top of the table, behind
a richly chased equipage for the distribution of those beverages.
" Ton my word, replied his lordship," apparently bewildered
" 'pon my word, I don't know what to say. Tea or coffee ? To
tell you the truth, I was going to take something out of my
174 MP. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
black friend yonder," nodding to where a French bottle like a tall
bully was lifting its head above an encircling stand of liqueur-
glasses.
" Suppose you have a little of what we call laced tea, my lord —
tea with a dash of brandy in it ? " suggested Mr. Springwheat.
" Laced tea," repeated his lordship ; " laced tea : so I will,"
said he. " Deuced good idea — deuced good idea," continued he,
bringing the bottle, and seating himself on Mrs. Springwheat's
right, while his host helped him to a most plentiful plate of turkey
and tongue. The table was now about full, as was the room ; the
guests just rolling in as they would to a public-house, and helping
•themselves to whatever they liked. Great was the noise of eating.
As his lordship was in the full enjoyment of his plateful of
meat, he happened to look up, and, the space between him and
•the window being clear, he saw something that caused him to drop
his knife and fork and fall back in his chair as if he was shot.
" My lord's ill ! " exclaimed Mr. Springwheat, who, being the
•only man with his nose up, was the first to perceive it.
" Clap him on the back ! " shrieked Mrs. Springwheat, Avho
•considered that an infallible recipe for the ailments of children.
" Oh, Mr. Spraggon ! " exclaimed both, as they rushed to his
.assistance, " what is the matter with my lord ? "
" Oh that Mister something ! " gasped his lordship, bending
forward in his chair, and venturing another glance through the
window.
Sure enough, there was Sponge, in the act of dismounting from
the piebald, and resigning it with becoming dignity to his trusty
groom, Mr. Leather, who stood most respectfully — Parvo in hand
— waiting to receive it.
Mr. Sponge, being of opinion that a red coat is a passport every-
where, having stamped the mud sparks off his boots at the door,
swaggered in with the greatest coolness, exclaiming, as he bobbed
his head to the lady, and looked round at the company, —
" What, grubbing away ! grubbing away, eh ? "
" Won't you take a little refreshment ? " asked Mr. Springwheat,
in the hearty way these hospitable fellows welcome everybody.
" Yes, I will," replied Sponge, turning to the sideboard as
though it were an inn. " That's a monstrous fine ham," observed
he ; " why doesn't somebody cut it ? "
" Let me help you to some, sir," replied Mr. Springwmeat,
seizing the buck-handled knife and fork, and diving deep into the
rich red meat with the knife.
Mr. Sponge having got two bountiful slices, with a knotch of
home-made brown bread, and some mustard on his plate, now
made for the table, and elbowed himself into a place between Mr.
Fossick and Sparks, immediately opposite Mr. Spraggon.
ME. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUE. 1T.""»
" Good morning," said ho to that worthy, r.s he saw the whites
of his eyes showing through his spectacles.
" Mornin' " muttered Jack, as if his mouth was either too full
to articulate, or he didn't want to have anything to say to Mr.
Sponge.
" Here's a fine hunting morning my lord," observed Sponge,
addressing himself to his lordship, who sat on Jack's left.
" Here's a very fine hunting morning, my lord," repeated
Sponge, not getting an answer to his first assertion.
"Is it?" blurted his lordship, pretending to be desperately
busy with the contents of his plate, though in reality his appetite
was gone.
A dead pause now ensued, interrupted only by the clattering of
knives and forks, and the occasional exclamations of parties in
want of some particular article of food. A chill had come over
the scene — a chill whose cause was apparent to every one, except
the worthy host and hostess, who had not heard of Mr. Sponge's
descent upon the country. They attributed it to his lordship's
indisposition, and Mr. Springwheat endeavoured to cheer him up
with the prospect of sport.
" There's a brace, if not a leash, of foxes in cover, my lord,"
observed he, seeing his lordship was only playing with the contents
of his plate.
" Is there ? " exclaimed his lordship, brightening up : " let's be
at 'em ! " added he, jumping up and diving under the side table
for his flat hat and heavy iron hammer-headed whip. " Good
morning, my dear Mrs. Springwheat," exclaimed he, putting on his
hat and seizing both her soft fat-fingered hands and squeezing
them ardently. " Good morning, my dear Mrs. Springwheat,"
repeated he, adding, " By Jove ! if ever there was an angel in
petticoats, you're her ; I'd give a hundred pounds for such a wife as
you ! I'd give a thousand pounds for such a wife as you ! By the
powers ! I'd give five thousand pounds for such a wife as you ! "
With which asseverations his lordship stamped away in his "Teat
■clumsy boots, amidst the ill-suppressed laughter of the party."
" No hurry, gentlemen — no hurry," observed Mr. Springwheat,
as some of the keen ones were preparing to follow, and began
-sorting their hats, and making the mistakes incident to their
being all the same shape. " No hurry, sir — no hurry, sir "
repeated Springwheat, addressing Mr. Sponge specifically ; " his
lordship will have a talk to his hounds yet, and his horse is still
in the stable."
With this assurance Mr. Sponge resumed his seat at the table,
where several of the hungry ones were plying their knives and
forks as if they were indeed breaking their fasts.
" Well, old boy, and how are you ? " asked Sponge, as the
176 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
whites of Jack's eyes again settled upon him, on the latter's look-
ing up from his plateful of sausages.
" Nicely. How are you ? " asked Jack.
" Nicely too," replied Sponge, in the laconic way men speak
who have been engaged in some common enterprise— getting
drunk, pelting people with rotten eggs, or anything of that sort.
" Jaw and the ladies well ? " asked Jack, in the same strain.
" Oh, nicely," said Sponge.
" Take a glass of cherry-brandy," exclaimed the hospitable Mr.
Springwheat : " nothing like a drop of something for steadying
the nerves."
" Presently," replied Sponge, " presently ; meanwhile I'll trouble
the missis for a cup of coffee. Coffee without sugar," said Sponge,
addressing the lady.
" With pleasure," replied Mrs. Springwheat, glad to get a little
custom for her goods. Most of the gentlemen had been at the
bottles and sideboard.
Springwheat, seeing Mr. Sponge, the only person who, as a
stranger, there was any occasion for him to attend to, in the care
of his wife, now slipped out of the room, and mounting his five-
year-old horse, whose tail stuck out like the long horn of a coach,
as his ploughman groom said, rode off to join the hunt.
" By the powers, but those are capital sarsingers ! " observed
Jack, smacking his lips and eating away for hard life. " Just
look if my lord's on his horse yet," added he to one of the
children, who had begun to hover round the table and dive their
lingers into the sweets.
"No,"replied the child ; "he's still on foot, playing with the dogs."
" Here goes, then," said Jack, " for another plate," suiting the
action to the word, and running with his plate to the sausage-dish.
" Have a hot one," exclaimed Mrs. Springwheat, adding, " it
will be done in a minute."
" No, thank ye," replied Jack, with a shake of the head, adding,
" I might be done in a minute too."
" He'll waitfor you, Isuppose?" observed Sponge, addressing Jack.
" Not so clear about that," replied Jack, gobbling away ; " time
and my lord wait for no man. But it's hardly the half-hour yet,"
added he, looking at his watch.
He then fell to with the voracity of a hound after hunting.
Sponge, too, made the most of his time, as did two or three others
who still remained.
" Now for the jumping-powdcr ! " at length exclaimed Sponge,
looking round for the bottle. " What shall it be, cherry or neat?"
continued he, pointing to the two.
" Cherry for me," replied Jack, squinting and eating away
without looking up.
IIP. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUIi. 177
" I say neat," rejoined Sponge, helping himself out of the
French bottle.
" You'll be hard to hold after that," observed Jack, as he eyed
Sponge tossing it off.
" I hope my horse won't." replied Sponge, remembering he wm
going to ride the resolute chestnut.
" You'll show us the way, I dare say," observed Jack.
" Shouldn't wonder," replied Sponge, helping himself to a second
glass.
" What! at it again ! " exclaimed Jack, adding, "Take care you
don't ride over my lord."
" I'll take care of the old file," said Sponge ; " it wouldn't do to
kill the goose that lays the golden what-do-ye-call-'ems, vou know
-he, he, he ! "
" No," chuckled Jack ; " 'deed it wouldn't — must make the
most of him."
" What sort of a humour is he in to-day ?" asked Sponge.
" Middlin'," replied Jack, " middlin' ; he'll abuse you most
likely, but that you mustn't mind."
"Not I," replied Sponge, who was used to that sort of thing.
" You mustn't mind me either," observed Jack, sweeping the
last piece of sausage into his mouth with his knife, and jumping
up from the table. " When his lordship rows I row," added he,
diving under the side-table for his flat hat.
"Hark! there's the horn !" exclaimed Sponge, rushing to the
window.
" So there is," responded Jack, standing transfixed on one leg
to the spot.
" By the powers, they're away ! " exclaimed Sponge, as his lord-
ship was seen hat in hand careering over the meadow, beyond the
cover, with the tail hounds straining to overtake their flying
comrades. Twang — twang — twang went Frostyface's horn ;
crack — crack — crack — went the ponderous thongs of the whips ;
shouts, and yells, and yelps, and whoops, and holloas, proclaimed
the usual wild excitement of this privileged period of the chase.
All was joy save among the gourmands assembled at the door —
they looked blank indeed.
"What a sell!" exclaimed Sponge, in disgust, who, with Jack,
saw the hopelessness of the case.
" Yonder he goes ! " exclaimed a lad, who had run up from the
cover to see the hunt from the rising ground.
" Where ? " exclaimed Sponge, straining his eye-balls.
" There ! " said the lad, pointing due south. " D'ye see Tommy
Claychop's pasture ? Now he's through the hedge and into Mrs.
Starveland's turnip-field, making right for Bramblebrake Wood on
the hill."
178 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
" So he is," said Sponge, who now caught sight of the fox
emerging from the turnips on to a grass-field beyond.
Jack stood staring through his great spectacles, without deigning
a word.
" What shall we do ? " asked Sponge.
"Do?" replied Jack, with his chin still up; "go home, I
should think."
" There's a man down ! " exclaimed a groom, who formed one
of the group, as a dark-coated rider and horse measured their
length on a pasture.
" It's Mr. Sparks," said another ; adding, " he's always rolling
about."
" Lor', look at the parson ! " exclaimed a third, as Blossomnose
was seen gathering his horse and setting up his shoulders pre-
paratory to riding at a gate.
" Well done, old 'un ! " roared a fourth, as the horse flew over
it, apparently without an effort.
" Now for Tom ! " cried several, as the second whip went
galloping up on the line of the gate.
"Ah ! he won't have it ! " was the cry, as the horse suddenly
stopped short, nearly shooting Tom over his head. "Try him
again — try him again — take a good run — that's him — there, he's
over ! " was the cry, as Tom flourished his arm in the air on
landing.
" Look ! there's old Tommy Baker, the rat-ketcher ! " cried
another, as a man went working his arms and legs on an old white
pony across a fallow.
" Ah, Tommy ! Tommy ! you'd better shut up," observed
another : " a pig could go as fast at that."
And so they criticised the laggers.
" How did my lord get his horse ? " asked Spraggon of the
groom who had brought them on, who now joined the eye-
straining group at the door.
" It was taken down to him at the cover," replied the man.
" My lord went in on foot, and the horse went round the back
way. The horse wasn't there half a minute before he was wanted ;
for no sooner were the hounds in at one end than out popped the
fox at t'other. Sich a whopper ! — biggest fox that ever was seen."
"They are all the biggest foxes that ever were seen," snapped Mr.
Sponge. " I'll be bound he was not a bit bigger than common."
"I'll be bound not, either," growled Mr. Spraggon, squinting
frightfully at the man, adding, " go, get me my hack, and don't
be talkin' nonsense there."
Our friends then remounted their hacks and parted company in
very moderate humours, feeling fully satisfied that his lordship
had done it on purpose.
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
17CJ
CHAPTER XXVIII.
'UK FINEST RUN THAT EVER WAS SEEN !
—RAY, Jack ! Hoo—
ray ! " exclaimed
iOrd Scaraperdale,
mrsting into his
anctum, where Mr.
Spraggon sat
in his hunting
coat and slip-
pers, spelling
As. 'vVv\ I»hI^ SSkMIuP" away at a
' WM m£ second - hand
copy of Bell's
L ife by the
light of a me-
lancholy mould
candle. " Hoo-
ray, Jack ! hoo-
ray ! ■" repeated
he, waving tha'
proud trophy,
a splendid fox's
brush, over his
grizzly head.
His lordship
was the picture
of delight. He
had had a
tremendous run — the finest run that ever was seen ! His hounds
had behaved to perfection ; his horse— though he had downed
him three times — had carried him well, and his lordship stood
with his crownless flat hat in his hand, and ono coat lap in the
pocket of the other — a grinning, exulting, self-satisfied specimen
of a happy Englishman.
" Lor ! what a sight you are ! " observed Jack, turning the
light of the candle upon his lordship's dirty person. " Why, I
declare you're an inch thick with mud," he added : " mud from
head to foot," he continued, working the light up and down.
"Never mind the mud, you old badger ! " roared his lordship,
still waving the brush over his head : " never mind the mud, you
N 2
180 MB\ SPONGE'S SPORTING TO UP.
old badger ; the mud'll come off, or may stay on ; but such a run
as we've had does not come off every day."
" Well, I'm glad you have had a run," replied Jack. " I'm
glad you have had a run ;" adding, "I was afraid at one time
that your day's sport was spoiled."
" Well, do you know," replied his lordship, " when I saw that
unrighteous snob, I was near sick. If it were possible for a man
to faint, I should have thought I was going to do so. At first I
thought of going home, taking the hounds away too ; then I
thought of going myself and leaving the hounds ; then I thought
if I left the hounds it would only make the sinful scaramouch
more outrageous, and I should be sitting on pins and needles till
they came home, thinking how he was crashing among them.
Next I thought of drawing all the unlikely places in the country,
and making a blank day of it. Then I thought that would only
be like cutting off my nose to spite my face. Then I didn't
know what on earth to do. At last, when I saw the critter'.s
great pecker steadily down in his plate, I thought I would try
and steal a march upon him, and get away with my fox while
he was feeding ; and, oh ! how thankful 1 was when I looked
back from Bramblebrake Hill, and saw no signs of him in the
distance."
"It wasn't likely you'd sec him," interrupted Jack, "for he
never got away from the front door. I twigged what you were
after, and kept him up in talk about his horses and his ridin' till I
saw you were fairly away."
"You did well," exclaimed Lord Scamperdale, patting Jack on
the back ; " you did well, my old buck-o'-wax ; and, by Jove !
we'll have a bottle of port — a bottle of port, as I live,'''' repeated
bis lordship, as if he had made up his mind to do a most magnifi-
cent act.
" But what's happened you behind ! — what's happened you
behind ? " asked Jack, as his lordship turned to the fire, and
exhibited his docked tail.
" Oh, hang the coat ! —it's neither here nor there," replied his
lordship ; — " hat neither," he added, exhibiting its crushed pro-
portions. "Old Blossomnose did the coat ; and as to the hat, I
did it myself — at least, old Daddy Longlegs and I did it between
us. We got into a grass-field, of which they had cut a few roods
of fence, just enough to tempt a man out of a very deep lane, and
away we sailed, in the enjoyment of fine sound sward, with the
rest of the field plunging and floundering, and holding and
grinning, and thinking what fools they were for not following my
example, — when, lo and behold ! I got to the bottom of the field,
and found there was no way out ; — no chance of a bore through
the great thick, high hedge, except at a branchy willow, where
MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 181
there was just enough room to squeeze a horse through, provided
he didn't rise at the ditch on the far side. At first I was for
getting off ; indeed, had my right foot out of the stirrup, when
the hounds dashed forrard with such energy, — looking like
running, — and remembering the tremendous climb I should have
to get on to old Daddy's back again, and seeing some of the nasty
jealous chaps in the lane eyeing me through the fence, thinking
how I was floored, I determined to stay where I wTas ; and
gathering the horse together, tried to squeeze through the hole.
Well, he went shuffling and sliding down to it, as though he were
conscious of the difficulty, and poked his head quietly past the
tree, when, getting a sight of the ditch on the far side, he rose,
and banged my head against the branch above, crushing my hat
right over my eyes, and in that position he carried me through
blindfold."
"Indeed!" exclaimed Jack, turning his spectacles full upon
his lordship, and adding, "it's lucky he didn't crack your
crown."
" It is," assented his lordship, feeling his head to satisfy himself
that he had not done so.
" And how did you lose your tail ? " asked Jack, having got
the information about the hat.
" The tail ! ah, the tail ! " replied his lordship, feeling behind,
where it wasn't ; " I'll tell you how that was : you see we went
away like blazes from Springwheat's gorse — nice gorse it is, and
nice woman he has for a wife — but, however, that's neither here
nor there ; what I was going to tell you about was the run, and
how I lost my tail. Well, we got away like winking ; no sooner
were the hounds in on one side than away went the fox on the
other. Not a soul shouted till he was clean gone ; hats in the air
was all that told his departure. The fox thus had time to run
matters through his mind — think whether he should go to
Itovenscar Craigs, or make for the main earths at Painscastle
Grove. He chose the latter, doubtless feeling himself strong and
full of running ; and if we had chosen his ground for him he
could not have taken us a finer line. He went as straight as an
arrow through Bramblebrake Wood, and then away down the hill
over those great enormous pastures to Haselbury Park, which he
skirted, leaving Evercreech Green on the left, pointing as if for
Dormston Dean. Here he was chased by a cur, and the hounds
were brought to a momentary check. Frosty, however, was well
up, and a hat being held up on Hothersell Hill, he clapped for'ard
and laid the hounds on beyond. We then viewed the fox sailing
away over Eddlethorp Downs, still pointing for Painscastle Grove,
with the Hamerton Brook lighting up here and there in the
distance.
182 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
" The field, I should tell you, were fairly taken by surprise.
There wasn't a man ready for a start ; my horse had only just
come down. Fossick was on foot, drawing his girths ; Fyle was
striking a light to smoke a cigar on his hack ; Blossomnose and
Capon's grooms were fistling and wisping their horses ; Dribble,
as usual, was all behind ; and altogether there was such a scene of
hurry and confusion as never was seen.
" As they came to the brook they got somewhat into line, and
one saw who was there. Five or six of us charged it together,
and two went under. One was Springwhcat on his bay, who was
somewhat pumped out ; the other was said to be Hook. Old
Daddy Longlegs skimmed it like a swallow, and, getting his hind-
legs well under him, shot over the pastures beyond, as if he was
going upon turf. The hounds all this time had been running, or
rather racing, nearly mute. They now, however, began to feel
for the scent ; and, as they got upon the cold, bleak grounds
above Somerton Quarries, they were fairly brought to their noses.
Uncommon glad I was to see them ; for ten minutes more, at the
pace they had been going, would have shaken off every man Jack
of us. As it was, it was bellows to mend ; and Calcott's roarer
roared as surely roarer never roared before. You could hear him
half a mile off. We had barely time, however, to turn our horses-
to the wind, and ease them for a few moments, before the pace
began to mend, and from a catching to a holding scent they again
poured across Walliugburn pastures, and away to Roughacres
Court. It was between these places that I got my head duntled
into my hat." continued his lordship, knocking the crownless hat
agaidst his mud-stained knee. "However, I didn't care a button
though I'd not worn it above two years, and it might have lasted
me a long time about home ; but misfortunes seldom come singly,
and I was soon to have another. The few of us that were left
were all for the lanes, and very accommodating the one between
Newton Bushell and the Forty-foot Bank was, the hounds running
parallel within a hundred yards on the left for nearly a mile.
When, however, we got to the old water-mill in the fields below,
the fox made a bend to the left, as if changing his mind, and
making for Newtonbroome Woods, and Ave were obliged to try the
fortunes of war in the fields. The first fence we came to looked
like nothing, and there was a weak place right in my line, that I
rode at, expecting the horse would easily bore through a few twigs
that crossed the upper part of it. These, however, happened to-
be twisted, to stop the gap, and not having put on enough steam,
they checked him as he rose, and brought him right down on his
head in the broad ditch, on the far side. Old Blossomnose, who
was following close behind, not making any allowance for falls,
was in the air before I was well down, and his horse came with a
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 1S3
forefoot into my pocket, and tore the lap clean off by the skirt ; "
his lordship exhibiting the lap as he spoke.
" It's your new coat, too," observed Jack, examining it with
concern as he spoke.
" 'Deed, is it ! " replied his lordship, with a shake of the head.
" 'Deed, is it ! That's the consequence of having gone out to
breakfast. If it had been to-morrow, for instance, I should have
had number two on, or maybe number three," his lordship having
coats of every shade and grade, from stainless scarlet down to
tattered mulberry colour.
"It'll mend, however," observed his lordship, taking it back
from Jack ; " it'll mend, however," he said, futing it round to the
skirt as he spoke.
" Oh, nicely ! " replied Jack ; " it's come off clean by the skirt.
But what said Old Blossom ? " inquired Jack.
" Oh, he was full of apologies and couldn't helps it as usual,"
replied his lordship ; " he was down, too, I should tell you, with
his horse on his left leg ; but there wasn't much time for apologies
or explanation, for the hounds were running pretty sharp, con-
sidering how long they had been at work, and there was the chance
of others jumping upon us if we didn't get out of the way, so we
both scrambled up as quick as we could and got into our places
again."
" Which way did you go, then ? " asked Jack, who had listened
with the attention of a man who knows every yard of the
country.
" Well," continued his lordship, casting back to where he got
his fall, " the fox crossed the Coatenburn township, picking all
the plough and bad-scenting ground as he went, but it was o°f no
use, his fate was sealed ; and though he began to run short, and
dodge and thread the hedge-rows, they hunted him yard by yard
till he again made an effort for his life, and took over Mossingburn
Moor, pointing for Penrose Tower on the hill. Here Frosty's
horse, Little Jumper, declined, and we left him standing in the
middle of the moor with a stiff neck, kicking and staring and
looking mournfully at his flanks. Daddy Longlegs, too, had
begun to sob, and in vain I looked back in hopes of seeing Jack-
a-Dandy coming up. ' Well,' said I to myself, ' I've got a pair of
good strong boots on, and I'll finish the run on foot but I'll see
it ; ' when, just at the moment, the pack broke from scent to
view, and rolled the fox up like a hedge-hog amongst them."
" Well done ! " exclaimed Jack, adding, " that was a run with a
vengeance
t "
" Wasn't it ? " replied his lordship, rubbing his hands and
stamping ; " the finest run that ever was seen — the finest run that
ever was seen ! "
184 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
" Why, it couldn't be less than twelve miles from point to point,"
observed Jack, thinking it over.
" Not a yard," replied his lordship, " not a yard, and from
fourteen to fifteen as the hounds ran."
" It would be all that," assented Jack. " How long were you
in doing it ? " he asked.
"An hour and forty minutes," replied his lordship ; "an hour
and forty minutes from the find to the finish ; " adding, " I'll
stick the brush and present it to Mrs. Springwheat."
" It's to be hoped Springy's out of the brook," observed Jack.
" To be hoped so," replied his lordship ; thinking if he wasn't,
whether he should marry Mrs. Springwheat or not.
Well now, after all that, we fancy we hear our fair friends
exclaim, " Thank goodness, there's an end of Lord Scarapcrdale
and his hunting ; he has had a good run, and will rest quiet for a
time ; we shall now hear something of Amelia and Emily, and the
doings at Jawleyford Court." Mistaken lady ! If you arc lucky
enough to marry an out-and-out fox-huutcr, you will find that a
good run is only adding fuel to the fire, only making him anxious
for more. Lord Scamperdale's sporting fire was in full blaze. His
bumps and his thumps, his rolls, and his scrambles, only brought
out the beauties and perfections of the thing. He cared nothing
for his hat-crown, no ; nor for his coat-lap either. Nay, he
wouldn't have cared if it had been made into a spencer.
"What's to-day ? Monday," said his lordship, answering him-
self. " Monday," he repeated ; " Monday — bubble-and-squeak, I
guess — sooner it's ready the better, for I'm half famished — didn't
do half justice to that nice breakfast at Springy's. That nasty
brown-booted buffer completely threw me off my feed. By the way,
■what became of the chestnut-booted animal ? "
" Went home," replied Jack ; " fittest place for him."
" Hope he'll stay there," rejoined his lordship. " No fear of his
being at the roads to-morrow, is there ? "
"None," replied Jack. " I told him it was quite an impossible
distance from him, twenty miles at least."
" That's grand ! " exclaimed his lordship ; " that's grand !
Then we'll have a rare, ding-dong hey — away pop. There'll be
no end of those nasty, jealous, Puffington dogs out ; and if we
have half such a scent as we had to-day, we'll sew some of them
up, we'll show 'em what hunting is. Now," he added, " if you'll
go and get the bottle of port, I'll clean myself, and then we'll
have dinner as quick as we can.*'
MB. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR
185
CHAPTER XXIX,
'HE FAITHFUL GUOOil.
E left our friend Mr.
■ Sponge wending hi.s
way home moodily,
after having lost his
day at Larkhall Hill.
Some of our readers
will, perhaps, say, why
didn't he clap on, and
try to catch up the
hounds at a check,
or at all events rejoin
them for an afternoon
fox ? Gentle reader !
Mr. Sponge did not
hunt on those terms ;
he was a front-rank
or a "nowhere" man.
and independently of
catching hounds up,
being always a fatigu-
ing and hazardous
speculation, especially
on a fine-scenting day, the exertion would have taken more out of
his horse than would have been desirable for successful display in
n second ran. Mr. Sponge, therefore, determined to go home.
As he sauntered along, musing on the mishaps of the chase,
wondering how Miss Jawleyford would look, and playing himself
an occasional tune with his spur against his stirrup, who should
come trotting behind him but Mr. Leather on the redoubtable
chestnut ? Mr. Sponge beckoned him alongside. The horse
looked blooming and bright ; his eye was clear and cheerful, and
1 here was a sort of springy graceful action that looked like easy
going.
One always fancies a horse most with another man on him.
We see all his good points without feeling his imperfections — his
trippings, or startings, or snatchings, or borings, or roughness of
action, and Mr. Sponge proceeded to make a silent estimate of
Multum-in-Parvo's qualities as he trotted gently along on the
grassy side of the somewhat wide road.
<;OINO TO COVER.
186 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
" By Jove ! it's a pity but his lordship had seen him," thought
Sponge, as the emulation of companionship made the horse
gradually increase his pace, and steal forward with the lightest
freest action imaginable. " If he was but all right," continued
Sponge, with a shake of the head, " he would be worth any money,
for he has the strength of a dray-horse, with the symmetry and
action of a racer."
Then Sponge thought he shouldn't have an opportunity of
showing the horse till Thursday, for Jack had satisfied him that
the next day's meet was quite beyond distance from Jawlcyford
Court.
"It's a bore," said he, rising in his stirrups, and tickling the
piebald with his spurs, as if he were going to set-to for a race.
He thought of having a trial of speed with the chestnut, up a
slip of turf they were now approaching ; but a sudden thought
struck him, and he desisted. " These horses have done nothing
to-day," he said ; " why shouldn't I send the chestnut on for
to-morrow ? "
" Do you know where the cross-roads are?" he asked his groom.
" Cross-roads, cross-roads — what cross-roads ? " replied Leather.
" Where the hounds meet to-morrow."
"Oh, the cross-roads at Somethin' Burn," rejoined Leather,
thoughtfully,— " no, 'deed, I don't," he addded. "From all
'counts, they seem to be somewhere on the far side of the world."
That was not a very encouraging answer ; and feeling it would
require a good deal of persuasion to induce Mr. Leather to go in
search of "it hern without clothing and the necessary requirements
for his horses, Mr. Sponge went trotting on, in hopes of seeing some
place where he might get a sight of the map of the county. So they
proceeded in silence, till a sudden turn of the road brought them
to the spire and housetops of the little agricultural town of
Barleyboll. It differed nothing from the ordinary run of small
towns. It had a pond at one end, an inn in the middle, a church
at one side, a fashionable milliner from London, a merchant tailor
from the same place, and a hardware shop or two where they also
sold treacle, Dartford gunpowder, pocket-handkerchiefs, sheep-nets,
patent medicines, cheese, blacking, marbles, mole-traps, men's
hats, and other miscellaneous articles. It was quite enough of a
town, however, to raise a presumption that there would be a map
of the county at the inn.
" We'll just put the horses up for a few minutes, I think," said
Sponge, turning into the stable-yard at the end of the Bed Lion
Hotel and Posting House ; adding, " I want to write a letter, and
perhaps," said he, looking at his watch, " you may be wanting
your dinner."
Having resigned his horse to his servant, Mr. Sponge walked
MR. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR. 187
in, receiving the marked attention usually paid to a red coat.
Mine host left his bar, where he was engaged in the usual occupa-
tion of drinking with customers for the " good of the house." A
map of the county, of such liberal dimensions, was speedily pro-
duced, as would have terrified any one unaccustomed to distances
and scales on which maps are laid down. For instance, Jawleyford
Court, as the crow flies, was the same distance from the cross-roads
at Dallington Burn as York was from London, in a map of England
hanging beside it.
" It's a goodish way," said Sponge, getting a lighter off the
chimney-piece, and measuring the distances. "From Jawleyford
Court to Billingsborough Rise, say seven miles ; from Billings-
borough Rise to Downington Wharf, other seven ; from Downing-
ton Wharf to Shapcot, which seems the nearest point, will be — say
five or six, perhaps — nineteen or twenty in all. Well, that's my
work," he observed, scratching his head, " at least, my hack's ;
and from here, home," he continued, measuring away as he spoke,
" will be twelve or thirteen. Well, that's nothing," he said.
" Now for the horse," he continued, again applying the lighter
in a different direction. " From here to Hardington, will be, say
eight miles ; from Hardington to Bewley, other five ; eight and
live are thirteen ; and there, I should say, he might sleep. That
would leave ten or twelve miles for the morning ; nothing for a
hack hunter ; 'specially such a horse as that, and one that's done
nothing for I don't know how long."
Altogether, Mr. Sponge determined to try it, especially consi-
dering that if he didn't get Tuesday, there would be nothing till
Thursday ; and he was not the man to keep a hack hunter
standing idle.
Accordingly he sought Mr. Leather, whom he found busily
engaged in the servants' apartment, with a cold round of beef and
a foaming flagon of ale before him.
" Leather," he said, in a tone of authority, "I'll hunt to-morrow
— ride the horse I should have ridden to-day."
"Where at ? " asked Leather, diving his fork into a bottle of
pickles, and fishing out an onion.
" The cross-roads," replied Sponge.
" The cross-roads be fifty mile from here ! " cried Leather.
"Nonsense ! " rejoined Sponge ; " I've just measured the distance.
It's nothing of the sort."
" How far do you make it, then ? " asked Leather, tucking in
the beef.
" Why, from here to Hardington is about six, and from Hard-
ington to Bewley, four — ten in all," replied Sponge. " You can
stay at Bewley all night, and then it is but a few miles on in the
morning."
188
ME. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR.
" And whativer am I to do for clotliiir ? " asked Leather,
addin»-, " I've nothin' with me — nothin' nonther for oss nor
man."
" Oh, the ostler '11 lend you what you want," replied Sponge, in
a tone of determination ; adding, " you can make shift for one
night, surely ? "
MR. LEATHER AND SPONGE HAVE A BIFFERENf'F. OF OPINION.
" One night, surely ! " retorted Leather. " D'ye think an oss
can't be ruined in one night ?— humph ! "
" I'll risk it," said Sponge.
" But I won't," replied Leather, blowing the foam from the
tankard, and taking a long swig at the ale. " I thinks I knows
my duty to my gov'nor better nor that," continued he, setting it
down. " I'll not sec his walnable 'untcrs stowed away in pigsties
— not T, indeed."
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 189
The fact was, Leather had an invitation to sup with the servauts
at Jawleyford Court that night, and he was not going to be done
out of his engagement, especially as Mr. Sponge only allowed him
two shillings a day for expenses wherever he was.
" Well, you're a cool hand, anyhow," observed Mr. Sponge, quite
taken by surprise.
" Cool 'and, or not cool 'and," replied Leather, munching away,
" I'll do my duty to my master. I'm not one o' your coatlcss,
characterless scamps wot 'ang about livery-stables ready to do
anything they're bid. No, Sir, no," he continued, pronging
another onion ; " / have some regard for the hinterest o' my
master. I'll do my duty in the station o' life in which I'm placed,
and won't be 'fraid to face no man." So saying Mr. Leather cut
himself a grand circumference of beef.
Mr. Sponge was taken aback, for he had never seen a conscien
tious livery-stable helper before, and did not believe in the exist-
ence of such articles. However, here was Mr. Leather assuming-
a virtue, whether he had it or non ; and Mr. Sponge being in the
man's power, of course durst not quarrel with him. It Avas clear
that Leather would not go ; and the question was, what should
Mr. Sponge do? "Why shouldn't I go myself?" he though;-,
shutting his eyes, as if to keep his faculties free from outward
distraction. He ran the thing quickly over in his mind, " What
Leather can do, I can do," he said, remembering that a groom
never demeaned himself by working where there was an ostler.
" These things I have on will do quite well for to-morrow, at
least among such rough-and-ready dogs as the Flat Hat men,
who seem as if they had their clothes pitched on with a fork."
His mind was quickly made up, and calling for pen, ink, and
paper, he wrote a hasty note to Jawleyford, explaining why he
would not cast up till the morrow ; he then got the chestnut out
of the stable, and desiring the ostler to give the note to Leather,
and tell him to go home with his hack, he just rode out of the
yard without giving Leather the chance of saying "nay." He
then jogged on at a pace suitable to the accurate measurement of
the distance.
The horse seemed to like having Sponge's red coat on better
that Leather's brown, and champed his bit, and stepped away
quite gaily.
"Confound it ! " exclaimed Sponge, laying the rein on its neck,
and leaning forward to pat him ; " it's a pity but you were always
in this humour — you'd be worth a mint of money if you were.'"
He then resumed his seat in the saddle, and bethought him how
lie would show them the way on the morrow. " If he doesn't
beat every horse in the field, it shan't be my fault," thought he ;
and thereupon he gave him the slightest possible touch with
190 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
the spur, and the horse shot away up a strip of grass like an
arrow.
" By Jove, but you can go ! " said he, pulling up as the grass
ran out upon the hard road.
Thus he reached the village of Hardington, which he quickly
cleared, and took the well-defined road to Bewlcy — a road adorned
with mile-stones and set out with a liberal horse-track at either
side.
Day had closed ere our friend reached Bewley, but the children
returning from school, and the country folks leaving their work,
kept assuring him that he was on the right line, till the lights of
the town, bursting upon him as he rounded the hill above, showed
him the end of his journey.
The best stalls at the head inn — the Bull's Head — were all full,
several trusty grooms having arrived with the usual head-stalls and
rolls of clothing on their horses, denoting the object of their
mission. Most of the horses had been in some hours, and were
now standing well littered up with straw, while the grooms were
in the tap talking over their masters, discussing the merits of their
horses, or arguing whether Lord Scamperdale was mad or not.
They had just come to the conclusion that his lordship was mad,
but not incapable of taking care of his affairs, when the trampling
of Sponge's horse's feet drew them out to see who was coming next.
Sponge's red coat at once told his tale, and procured him the usual
attention.
Mr. Leather's fear of the want of clothing for the valuable
hunter proved wholly groundless, for each groom having come
with a plentiful supply for his own horse, all the inn stock was at
the service of the stranger. The stable, to be sure, was not quite
so good as might be desired, but it was warm and water-tight, and
the corn was far from bad. Altogether, Mr. Sponge thought he
would do very well, and, having seen to his horse, proceeded to
choose between beef-steaks and mutton chops for his own enter-
tainment, and with the aid of the old country paper and some very
questionable port, he passed the evening in anticipation of the
sports of the morrow.
ME. tiPONGH'S 8P0BTING TOUR.
1U1
CHAPTER XXX.
THE CROSS-ROADS AT DALLINGTON BURN.
THE MORNING kIDE In DALLINGTON.
When his lordship and Jack mounted their hacks in the morning
to go to the cross roads at Dallington Bum, it was so dark that
they could not see whether they were on bays or browns. It was
a dull, murky day, with heavy spongy clouds overhead.
There had been a great deal of rain in the night, and the
horses poached and squashed as they went. Our sportsmen, how-
ever, were prepared as well for what had fallen as for what might
come ; for they were encased in enormously thick boots, with
baggy overalls, and coats and waistcoats of the stoutest and most
abundant order. They had each a sack of a macintosh strapped
on to their saddle fronts. Thus they went blobbing and groping
their way along, varying the monotony of the journey by an
192 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
occasional spurt of muddy water up into their faces, or the more
nerve-trying noise of a floundering stumble over a heap of stones
by the roadside. The country people stared with astonishment as
they passed, and the muggers and tinkers, who were withdrawing
their horses froui the farmers' fields, stood trembling, lest they
might be the " pollis " coming after them.
" I think it'll be a fine day/' observed his lordship, after they
had bumped for some time in silence without its getting much
lighter. " I think it will be a fine day," he said, taking his chin
out of his great puddingy-spotted neckcloth, and turning his
spectacled face up to the clouds.
" The want of light is its chief fault," observed Jack ; adding,
" it's deuced dark ! "
"Ah, it'll get better of that," observed his lordship. "It's
not much after eight yet," he added, staring at his watch, and
with difficulty making out that it was half-past. " Days take
off terribly about this time of year," he observed ; " I've seen
about Christmas when it has never been rightly light all day
long."
They then floundered on again for some time further as before.
" Shouldn't wonder if we have a large field," at length observed
Jack, bringing his hack alongside his lordship's.
" Shouldn't wonder if Puff himself was to come — all over
brooches and rings as usual." replied his lordship.
"And Charley Slapp, I'll be bund to say," observed Jack.
"He's a regular hanger-on of Puff's."
" Ass, that Slapp," said his lordship ; " hate the sight of him ! "
" So do I," replied Jack ; adding, " hate a hanger-on ! "
" There are the hounds," said his lordship, as they now
approached Culvcrton Dean, and a line of something white was
discernible travelling the zig-zagging road on the opposite
side.
" Are they, think you ? " replied Jack, staring through his
ijreat spectacles; "are they, think you? It looks to me more
like a flock of sheep."
" I believe you're right," said his lordship, staring too ;
" indeed, I hear the dog. The hounds, however, can't be far
ahead."
They then drew into single file to take the broken horse-track
through the steep woody dean.
" This is the longest sixteen miles I know," observed Jack, ns
they emerged from it, and overtook the sheep.
" It is," replied his lordship, spurring his hack, who was now
begiuning to lag : " the fact is, it's eighteen," he continued ; " only
if I was to tell Frosty it was eighteen, he would want to lay over-
night, and that wouldn't do. Besides the trouble and incon-
.Bfi2. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 193
veniencc. it would spoil the best part of a five-pund note ; and
five-pund notes don't grow upon gooseberry-bushes — at least not
in my garden."
"Kather scarce in all gardens just now, I think," observed
Jack ; " at least I never hear of anybody with one to spare."
" Money's like snow," said his lordship, " a very meltable
article ; and talking of snow," he said, looking up at the heavy
clouds, " I wish we mayn't be going to have some — I don't like
the look of things overhead."
" Heavy," replied Jack ; " heavy : however, it's due about
now."
" Due or not due," sa'd his lordship, " it's a thing one never
wishes to come ; anybody may have my share of snow that likes —
frost too."
The road, or rather track, now passed over Blobbington Moor,
and our friends had enough to do to keep their horses out of peat-
holes and bogs, without indulging in conversation. At length
they cleared the moor, and, pulling out a gap at the corner of the
inclosures, cut across a few fields, and got on to the Stumpington
turnpike.
" The hounds arc here," said Jack, after studying the muddy
road for some time.
"They'll net be there long," replied his lordship, "for
Grabtintoll Gate isn't far a-head, and we don't waste our
substance on pikes."
His lordship was right. The imprints soon diverged up a
muddy lane on the right, and our sportsmen now got into a road
so deep and bottomless as to put the idea of stones quite out of
the question.
" Hang the road ! " exclaimed his lordship, as his hack nearly
came on his nose, "hang the road!" repeated he, adding, " if
Puff wasn't such an ass, I really think I'd give him up the cross-
road country."
" It's bad to get at from us," observed Jack, who didn't like
such trashing distances.
" Ah ! but it's a rare good country when you get to it," replied
his lordship, shortening his rein and spurring his steed.
The lane being at length cleared, the road became more practic-
able, passing over large pastures where a horseman could choose
his own ground, instead of being bound by the narrow limits of
the law. But though the road improved, the day did not ; a
thick fog coming drifting up from the south-cast in aid of the
general obscurity of the scene.
" The day's gettin' wuss" observed Jack, snuffling and staring
about.
" It'll blow over," replied his lordship, who was not easily
o
104 ML. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
disheartened. " It'll blow over," repeated he, adding, " often rare
scents snch days as these. But we must put on," continued he,
looking at his watch, "for it's half-past, and we are a mile or more
off yet." So saying, he clapped spurs to his hack and shot away
at a canter, followed by Jack at a long-drawn " hammer and
pincers" trot.
A hunt is something like an Assize circuit, where certain great
guns show everywhere, and smaller men drop in hero and there,
snatching a day or a brief, as the case may be. Sergeant Bluff
and Sergeant Huff rustle and wrangle in every court, while Mr.
Meeke and Mr. Sneeke enjoy their frights on the forensic arenas of
their respective towns, on behalf of simple neighbours, who look
upon them as thorough Solomons. So with hunts. Certain men
who seem to have been sent into the world for the express
purpose of hunting, arrive at every meet, far and near, with a
punctuality that is truly surprising, and rarely associated with
pleasure.
If you listen to their conversation, it is generally a dissertation
on the previous day's sport, with inquiries as to the nearest way
to cover the next. Sometimes it is seasoned with censure of some
other pack they have been seeing. These men are mounted and
appointed in a manner that shows what a perfect profession
hunting is with them. Of course, they come cantering to cover,
lest any one should suppose they ride their horses on.
The " Cross Eoads " was like two hunts or two circuits joining,
for it generally drew the picked men from each, to say nothing of
outriggers and chance customers. The regular attendants of
either hunt were sufficiently distinguishable as well by the flat
hats and baggy garments of the one, as by the dandified, Jemmy
Jessamy air of the other. If a lord had not been at the head of
the Flat Hats, the Puffington men would have considered them
insufferable snobs. But to our day.
As usual, where hounds have to travel a long distance, the field
were assembled before they arrived. Almost all the cantering
gentlemen had cast up.
One cross-road meet being so much like another, it will not be
worth while describing the one at Dallington Burn. The reader
will have the kindness to imagine a couple of roads crossing an
open common, with an armless sign-post on one side, and a rubble-
stone bridge, with several of the coping-stones lying in the
shallow stream below, on the other.
The country round about, if any country could have been seen,
would have shown wild, open, and cheerless. Here a patch of
wood, there a patch of heath, but its general aspect bare and
unfruitful. The commanding outline of Bcechwood Forest was
not visible for the weather. Time now, let us suppose, half-past
ME. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR. 195
ten, with a full muster of horsemen and a fog making unwonted
dulness of the scene — the old sign-pole being the most conspicuous
object of the whole.
Hark ! what a clamour there is about it. It's like a betting-
post at Newmarket. How loud the people talk ! what's the new,s ?
<)ueen Ann dead, or is there another French Revolution, or a
iixed duty on corn ? Reader. Mr. Puffing-ton's hounds have had
a run, and the Flat Hat men are disputing it.
" Nothing of the sort ! nothing of the sort !" exclaims Fossick,
" I know every yard of the country, and you can't make more nor
eight of it anyhow, if eight."
" Well, but I've measured it on the map," replied the speaker
(Charley Slapp himself), " and it's thirteen, if it's a yard."
" Then the country's grown bigger since my day," rejoins
Fossick, " for I was dropped at Stubgrove, which is within a mile
of where you found, and I've walked, and I've ridden, and I've
driven every yard of the distauce, and you can't make it more than
eight, if it's as much. Can yon, Capon ? " exclaimed Fossick,
appealing to another of the " ilat brims," whose luminous face
now shone through the fog.
" No," replied Capon ; adding, " not so much, I should say."
Just then up trotted Frosty face with the hounds.
" Good morning, Frosty ! good morning ! " exclaim half-a-
dozen voices, that it would be difficult to appropriate from the
denseness of the fog. Frosty and the whips make a general
.salute with their caps.
"Well, Frosty, I suppose you've heard what a run we had
yesterday ? " exclaims Charley Slapp, as soon as Frosty and the
hounds are settled.
" Had they, sir — had they ? " replies Frosty, with a slight
touch of his cap and a sneer. " Glad to hear it, sir — glad to hear
it. Hope they killed, sir — hope they killed?" with a still slighter
touch of the cap.
" Killed, aye ? — killed in the open just below Crabstono
Green, in your country ; " adding, " It was one of your foxes I
believe."
"Glad of it, sir — glad of it, sir," replies Frosty. "They
wanted blood sadly — they wanted blood sadly. Quite welcome to
one of our foxes, sir — quite welcome. That's a brace and a :alf
they've killed."
" Brace and a ha-r-r-f ! " drawls Slapp, in well-feigned disgust ;
" brace and a ha-r-r-f ! — why, it makes them ten brace, and six
run to ground."
" Oh, don't tell ???<?,". retorts Frosty, with a shake of disgust ; "don't
tell me. I knows better — I knows better. They'd only killed
a brace since they began hunting up to yesterday. The rest were
O 2
106 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
all cubs, poor things ! — all cubs, poor things ! Mr. Puffington's
hounds are not the sort of animals to kill foxes : nasty, skirtin',
flashy, jealous divils ; always starin' about for holloas and assist-
ance* I'll be d — d if I'd give eighteenncnce for the 'ole lot on
•era."
A loud guffaw from the Flat Hat men greeted this wholesale
condemnation. The Puffington men looked unutterable things,
and there is no saying what disagreeable comparisons might have
been instituted (for the Pnffingtonians mustered strong) had not
his lordship and Jack cast up at the moment. Hats off and polite-
ness was then the order of the day.
" Mornin'," said his lordship, with a snatch of his hat in return,,
as he pulled up and stared into the cloud-enveloped crowd ;
" Mornin', Fyle ; mornin', Fossick," he continued, as he distin-
guished those worthies, as much by their hats as anything else.
" Where are the horses ? " he said to Frostyface.
" Just beyond there, my lord," replied the huntsman, pointing
with his whip to where a cockaded servant was " to-and-froing "
a couple of hunters — a brown and a chestnut.
" Let's be doing," said his lordship, trotting up to them and
throwing himself off his hack like a sack. Having divested him-
self of his muddy overalls, he mounted the brown, a splendid
sixteen hands horse in tip-top condition, and again made for the
field in all the pride of masterly equestrianism. A momentary
gleam of sunshine shot o'er the scene ; a jerk of the head acted
as a signal to throw off, and away they all moved from the
meet.
Thorneybush Gorse was a large eight-acre cover, formed partly
of gorse and partly of stunted blackthorn, with here and there a
sprinkling of Scotch firs. His lordship paid two pound a-year for
it, having vainly tried to get it for thirty shillings, which was-
about the actual value of the land, but the proprietor claimed a
little compensation for the trampling of horses about it ; moreover,
the Puffington men would have taken it at two pounds. It was a
sure find, and the hounds dashed into it with a scent.
The field ranged themselves at the accustomed corner, both
hunts full of their previous day's run. Frostyface's " Yoicks, wind
him ! " " Yoicks, push him up ! " was drowned in a medley of
voices.
A loud clear shrill " Tally-ho, away ! " from the far side of
the cover caused all tongues to stop, and all hands to drop on the
reins. Great was the excitement ! Each hunt was determined to
take the shine out of the other.
" Twang, twang, twang ! " " Tweet, tweet, tweet ! " went his
lordship's and Frostyface's horns, as they came bounding over the
gorse to the spot, with the eager pack rushing at their horses' heels..
MR. SPONGE'S STORTING TOUR.
197
Then, as the hounds crossed the line of scent, there was such an
outburst of melody in cover, and such gathering of reins and
thrusting on of hats outside ! The hounds dashed out of cover as
if somebody was kicking them. A man in scarlet was seen flying
through the fog, producing the usual hold-hardings, " Hold hard,
sir ! " " God bless you, hold hard, sir ! " with, enquiries as to " who
the chap was that was going to catch the fox."
JACK FROSTY AND CHARLEY SLAPI'.
" It's Lumpleg ! " exclaimed one of the Flat Hat men.
"No, it's not ! " roared a Puffingtonite ; " Lumpleg's here."
" Then it's Charley Slapp ; he's always doing it," rejoined the
first speaker. " Most jealous man in the world."
" Is he ! " exclaimed Slapp, cantering past at his ease on a
thorough-bred grey, as if he could well afford to dispense with a
start.
Reader ! it was neither Lumpleg nor Slapp, nor any of the
198 MB. SFQNGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
Puffington snobs, or Flat Hat swells, or Puffing-ton Swells, or
Plat Hat snobs. It was our old friend Sponge ; Monsieur Tonson
again ! Having arrived late, he had posted himself, unseen, by
the cover side, and the fox had broke close to him. Unfortunately,,
be had beaded him back, and a pretty kettle of fish was the result.
Not only had he headed him back, but the resolute chestnut,
having taken it into his head to run away, had snatched the bit
between his teeth, and carried him to the far side of a field ere
Sponge managed to manoeuvre him round on a very liberal semi-
circle, and face the now flying sportsmen, who came hurrying on
through the mist like a charge of yeomanry after a salute. All was
excitement, hurry-scurry, and horse-hugging, with the usual
spurring, elbowing, and exertion to get into places ; Mr. Fossick
considering he had as much right to be before Mr. Fylc, as Mr.
Pyle had to be before old Capon.
It apparently being all the same to the chestnut which way he
went so long as he had his run, he now bore Sponge back as
quickly as he had carried him away, and with yawning mouth, and
head in tbe air, he dashed right at the coming horsemen, charging
Lord Scamperdale full tilt as he was in the act of returning his
horn to its case. Great was the collision ! His lordship flew one
way, his horse another, his hat a third, his whip a fourth, his
spectacles a fifth ; in fact, he was scattered alt over. In an
instant he lay in the centre of a circle, kicking on his back like a
lively turtle.
" Oh ! I'm kilt !" he roared, striking out as if he was swimming,
or rather floating. " I'm kilt ! " he repeated. He's broken my
back, — he's broken my legs, — he's broken my ribs, — he's broken
my collar-bone, — he's knocked my right eye into the heel of my
left boot. Oh ! will nobody catch him and kill him ? Will
nobody do for him ? Will you see an English nobleman knocked
about like a nine-pin ? " added his lordship, scrambling up to go
in pursuit of Mr. Sponge himself, exclaiming, as he stood shaking
his fist at him, "Rot ye, Sir ! hangings too good for ye! you should
be condemned to hunt in Berwickshire the rest of your life! "
MM. SFONGti'S SFOBTIXO TOUR.
199
CHAPTER XXXI.
BOLTING THE BAEGER.
WHEN a man and his
horse differ seriously
in public, and the
man feels the horse
has the best of it, it
is wise for the man
to appear to accom-
modate his views to
those of the horse,
rather than risk a
defeat. It is best to
let the horse go his
way, and pretend it is
yours. There is no
secret so close as that
between a rider and
his horse.
Mr. Sponge, having
scattered Lord Scam-
perdale in the sum-
mary way described
in our last chapter,
let the chestnut gal-
mjstreos AKD maid. lop away, consoling
himself with the idea
that even if the hounds did hunt, it would be impossible for him
to show his horse to advantage on so dark and unfavourable a
day. He, therefore, just let the beast gallop till he began to flag,
and then he spurred him and made him gallop on his account.
He thus took his change out of him, and arrived at Jawleyford
Court a little after luncheon time.
Brief as had been his absence, things had undergone a great
change. Certain dark hints respecting his ways and means had
worked their way from the servants' hall to my lady's chamber,
and into the upper regions generally. These had been augmented
by Leather's, the trusty groom's, overnight visit, in fulfilment of
his engagement to sup with the servants. Xor was Mr. Leather's
anger abated by the unceremonious way Mr. Sponge rode off with
the horse, leaving him to hear of his departure from the ostler.
200 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
Having broken faith with him, he considered it his duty to he
" upsides " with him, and tell the servants all he knew about him.
Accordingly he let out, in strict confidence of course, to Spigot,
that so far from Mr. Sponge being a gentleman of " fortin," as he
called it, with a dozen or two hunters planted here and there, he
was nothing but the hirer of a couple of hacks, with himself as a
job-groom, by the week. Spigot, who was on the best of terms with
the " cook-housekeeper," and had his clothes washed on the sly in
the laundry, could not do less than communicate the intelligence
to her, from whom it went to the lady's-maid, and thence circu-
lated in the upper regions.
Juliana, the maid, finding Miss Amelia less indisposed to hear
Mr. Sponge run down than she expected, proceeded to add her
own observations to the information derived from Leather, the
groom. " Indeed, she couldn't say that she thought much of Mr.
Sponge herself ; his shirts were coarse, so were his pocket-hand-
kerchiefs ; and she never yet saw a real gent without a valet."
Amelia, without any positive intention of giving up Mr. Sponge,
at least not until she saw further, had nevertheless got an idea
that she was destined for a much higher sphere. Having duly
considered all the circumstances of Mr. Spraggon's visit to
Jawleyford Court, conned over several mysterious coughs and
half -finished sentences he had indulged in, she had about come to
the conclusion that the real object of his mission was to negotiate
a matrimonial alliance on behalf of Lord Scamperdale. His lord-
ship's constantly expressed intention of getting married was well
calculated to mislead one whose experience of the world was not
sufficiently great to know that those men who are always talking
about it are the least likely to get married, just as men who are
always talking about buying horses are the men who never do buy
them. Be that, however, as it may, Amelia was tolerably easy
about Mr. Sponge. If he had money she could take him, if he
hadn't she could let him alone.
Jawleyford, too, who was more hospitable at a distance, and in
imagination than in reality, had had about enough of our friend.
Indeed, a man whose talk was of hunting, and his reading "Mogg,"
was not likely to have much in common with a gentleman of taste
and elegance, as our friend set up to be. The delicate inquiry
that Mrs. Jawleyford now made, as to "whether he knew Mr.
Sponge to be a man of fortune," set him off at a tangent.
" Me know he's a man of fortune ! / know nothing of his for-
tune. You asked him here, not me," exclaimed Jawleyford, stamp-
ing furiously.
" No, my dear," replied Mrs. Jawleyford, mildly ; " he asked
himself, you know ; but I thought, perhaps, you might have said
something that "
MB. SPONGE'S SPOBTING TOUB. 201
" Me say anything ! " interrupted Jawleyford ; " / never said
■anything — at least, nothing that any man with a particle of sense
would think anything of," continued he, remembering the scene
in the billiard-room. " It's one thing to tell a man, if he comes
your way, you'll be glad to see him, and another to ask him to come
bag and baggage, as this impudent Mr. Sponge has done," added he.
" Certainly," replied Mrs. Jawleyford, who saw where the shoe
was pinching her bear.
" I wish he was off," observed Jawleyford, after a pause. " He
bothers me excessively — I'll try and get rid of him by saying we
are going from home."
" Where can you say we are going to ? " asked Mrs. Jawleyford.
"Oh, anywhere," replied Jawleyford; "he doesn't know the
people about here : the Tewkesbury's,, the Woolerton's, the
Brown's, — anybody."
Before they had got any definite plan of proceeding arranged,
Mr. Sponge returned from the chase.
"Ah, my dear sir!" exclaimed Jawleyford, half gaily, half
moodily, extending a couple of fingers as Sponge entered his study ;
" we thought you had taken French leave of us, and were off."
Mr. Sponge asked if his groom had not delivered his note.
"No," replied Jawleyford, boldly, though he had it in his
pocket ; " at least, not that I've seen. Mrs. Jawleyford, perhaps,
may have got it," added he.
" Indeed ! " exclaimed Sponge ; " it was very idle of him. He
then proceeded to detail to Jawleyford what the reader already
knows, how he had lost his day at Larkhall Hill, and had tried to
make up for it by going to the cross-roads.
" Ah ! " exclaimed Jawleyford, when he was done ; " that's a
pity — great pity — monstrous pity — never knew anything so
unlucky in my life."
"Misfortunes will happen,"replicd Sponge, in a tone of unconcern.
"Ah, it wasn't so much the loss of the hunt I was thinking of,"
replied Jawleyford, " as the arrangements we have made in
consequence of thinking you were gone."
" What are they ? " asked Sponge.
" Why, my Lord Barker, a great friend of ours — known him
from a boy — just like brothers, in short — sent over this morning
to ask us all there— shooting party, charades, that sort of thing —
and we accepted."
" But that need make no difference," replied Sponge ; " I'll
go too."
Jawleyford was taken aback. He had not calculated upon so
much coolness.
" Well," stammered he, "that might do, to be sure ; but — if—
1'ra not quite sure that I could take any one "
202 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUP.
" Bat if you're as thick as you say, you can have uo difficulty,"
replied our friend.
"True," replied Jawleyford ; "but then we go a large party
ourselves — two and two's four," said he, " to say nothing of
servants ; besides, his lordship mayn't have room — house will most
likely be full."
" Ob, a single man can always be put up ; shake-down — any-
thing does for him," replied Sponge.
"But you would lose your hunting," replied Jawleyford.
" Barkington Tower is quite out of Lord Scamperdalo's country."
" That doesn't matter," replied Sponge ; adding, " I don't
think I'll trouble his lordship much more. These Flat Hat
gentlemen are not over and above civil, in my opinion."
"Well," replied Jawleyford, nettled at this thwarting of his
attempt, " that's for your consideration. However, as you've come,
I'll talk to Mrs. Jawleyford, and see if we can get off the Barking-
ton expedition."
" But don't get off on my account," replied Sponge. " I can
stay here quite well. I dare say you'll not be away long."
This was worse still ; it held out no hope of getting rid of him.
Jawleyford therefore resolved to try and smoke and starve him
out. When our friend went to dress, he found his old apartment,
the state-room, put away, the heavy brocade curtains brown-
hollanded, the jugs turned upside down, the bed stripped of its
clothes, and the looking-glass laid a-top of it.
The smirking housemaid, who was just rolling the flreirons up in
the hearth-rug, greeted him with a " Please, sir, we've shifted you
into the brown room, east," leading the way to the condemned cell
that "Jack" had occupied, where a newly-lit fire was puffing out
dense clouds of brown smoke, obscuring even the gilt letters on
the back of " Mogg's Cab Fares," as the little volume lay qa the
toilet-table.
"What's happened now?" asked our friend of the maid, putting
his arm round her waist, and giving her a hearty squeeze. " What's
happened now, that you've put me into this dog-hole?" asked he.
" Oh ! I don't know," replied she, laughing ; " I s'pose they're
afraid you'll bring the old rotten curtains down in the other room
with smokin'. Master's a sad old wife," added she.
A great change had come over everything. The fare, the lights,
the footmen, the everything, underwent grievous diminution. The
lamps were extinguished ; and the transparent wax gave way to
Palmer's composites, under the mild influence of whose unsearch-
ing light the young ladies sported their dashed dresses with
impunity. Competition between them, indeed, was about an end.
Amelia claimed Mr. Sponge, should he be worth having, and
should the Scamperdale scheme fail; while Emily, having her
Mil. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUll.
203
mamma's assurance that he would not do for either of them,,
resigned herself complacently to what she could not help.
Mr. Sponge, on his part, saw that all thiugs portended a close.
He cared nothing about the old willow-pattern set usurping the
place of the Jawleyford-armed china ; but the contents of the^
MR. SPONGE DEMANDING! AN EXPLANATION.
dishes were bad, and the wine, if possible, worse. Most palpable
Marsala did duty for sherry, and the corked port was again in
requisition. Jawleyford was no longer the brisk, cheery-hearted
.lawleyford of Laverick Wells, but a crusty, fidgetty, fire-stirring
sort of fellow, desperately given to his Morning Post".
Worst of all, when Mr. Sponge retired to his den to smoke a
cigar and study his dear cab fare?., he was so suffocated with
204 MB. SPONGE'S SPOBTING TOUB.
smoke that he was obliged to put out the fire, notwithstanding
the weather was cold, indeed inclining to frost. He lit his cigar
notwithstanding ; and, as he indulged in it, he ran all the circum-
stances of his situation through his mind. His pressing invitation
— his magnificent reception — the attention of the ladies — and now
the sudden change everything had taken. He couldn't make it
out, somehow ; hut the consequences were plain enough. " The
fellow's a humbug," at length said he, throwing the cigar-end
away, and turning into bed, when the information Watson the
keeper gave him, on arriving recurred to his mind, and he was
satisfied that Jawleyford was a humbug. It was clear Mr. Sponge
had made a mistake in coming ; the best thing he could do now
was to back out, and see if the fair Amelia would take it to heart.
In the midst of his cogitations Mr. Puffington's pressing invitation
occurred to his mind, and it appeared to be the very thing for
him, affording him an immediate asylum within reach of the fair
lady, should she be likely to die.
Next day he wrote to volunteer a visit.
Mr. Puffington, who was still in ignorance of our friend's real
•character, and still believed him to be a second " Nimrod " out on
a " tour," was overjoyed at his letter ; and, strange to relate, the
same post that brought his answer jumping at the proposal,
brought a letter from Lord Scamperdale to Jawleyford, saying
that, " as soon as Jawleyford was quite alone (scored under) he
would like to pay him a visit." His lordship, we should inform
the reader, notwithstanding his recent mishap, still held out
against Jack Spraggon's recommendation to get rid of Mr. Sponge
by buying his horses, and he determined to try this experiment
first. His lordship thought at one time of entering into an
■explanation, telling Mr. Jawleyford the damage Sponge had done
him, and the nuisance he was entailing upon him by harbouring
him ; but not being a great scholar, and several hard words turn-
ing up that his lordship could not well clear in the spelling, he
just confined himself to a laconic ; Avhich as it turned out, was a
most fortunate course. Indeed, he had another difficulty besides
the spelling, for the hounds having as usual had a great run after
Mr. Sponge had floored him — knocked his right eye into the heel
of his left boot, as he said — in the course of which run his lord-
ship's horse had rolled over him on a road, he was like the railway
people — unable to distinguish between capital and income — unable
to say which were Sponge's bangs and which his own ; so, like a
hard cricket-ball sort of a man as he was, he just pocketed all, and
wrote as we have described.
His lordship's and Mr. Puffington's letters diffused joy into a
house that seemed likely to be distracted with trouble.
So then endeth our thirtieth chapter, and a very pleasant ending
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
205
it is, for we leave every one in perfect good humour and spirits.
Sponge pleased at having got a Iresh billet, Jawleyford delighted at
the coming cf the lord, and each fair lady practising in private
how to sign her christian name in conjunction with " Scamper-
dale."
CHAPTER XXXII.
MR. PUFFIXGTOX : OR, THE YOUNG MAX ABOUT TOWN.
<*<*-%*
^
MR. PUFFINGTON, FROM THE ORIGINAL riCTTRE.
Mr. Puffixoton took the Mangeysterne, now the Hanby
hounds, because he thought they would give him consequence.
Kot that he was particularly deficient in that article ; but being a
203 ME. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
■new man in the county, he thought that talcing them would make
him popular, and give him standing. He had no natural inclina-
tion for hunting, but seeing friends who had no taste for the turf
take upon themselves the responsibility of stewardships, he saw no
reason why he should not make a similar sacrifice at the shrine of
Diana. Indeed, Puff was not bred for a sportsman. His father,
a most estimable man, and one with whom we have spent many a
convivial evening, was a great starchmaker at Stepney ; and his
mother was the daughter of an eminent Worcestershire stone-china
maker. Save such ludicrous hunts as they might have seen on
their brown jugs, we do not believe either of them had any
acquaintance whatever with the chase. Old Puffington was,
however, what a wise heir esteems a great deal more — an excellent
man of business, and amassed mountains of money. To see his
establishment at Stepney, one would think the whole world was
going to be starched. Enormous dock-tailed dray-horses emerged
with ponderous waggons heaped up to the very skies, while
others would come rumbling in, laden with wheat, potatoes,
and other starch-making ingredients. Puffington's blue roans
were well known about town, and were considered the handsomest
horses of the day ; quite equal to Barclay and Perkins's pie-
balds.
Old Puffington was not like a sportsman. He was a little, soft,
rosy, round-about man, with stiff resolute legs that did not look as
if they could be bent to a saddle. He was great, however, in a
gig, and slouched like a sack.
Mrs. Puffington, ne Smith, was a tall handsome woman, who
thought a good deal of herself. When she and her spouse married,
they lived close to the manufactory, in a sweet little villa replete
with every elegance and convenience — a pond, which they called a
lake — laburnums without end ; a yew, clipped, into a dock-tailed
waggon horse ; standing for three horses and gigs, with an acre
and a half of land for a cow.
Old Puffington, however, being unable to keep those dearest
documents of a British merchant, his balance-sheets, to himself,
and Mrs. Puffington finding a considerable sum going to the
"good" every year, insisted, on the birth of their only child, our
friend, upon migrating to the " west," as she called it, and at one
bold stroke they established themselves in Heathcote-street,
Mecklenburgh-square. Novelists had not then written this part
down as " Mesopotamia," and it was quite as genteel as Harley or
Wimpole-street are now. Their chief object then was to increase
their wealth and make their only son " a gentleman." They sent
him to Eton, and in due time to Christ Church, where, of course,
he established a red coat, to persecute Sir Thomas Mostyn's and
.the Duke of Beaufort's hounds, much to the annoyance of their
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 207
respective huntsmen, Stephen Goodall and Philip Payne, and the
aggravation of poor old Griff. Lloyd.
What between the field and college, young Puffing-ton made
the acquaintance of several very dashing young sparks — Lord
Firebrand, Lord Mudlark, Lord Dcuccace, Sir Harry Blueun, and
others, whom he always spoke of as " Dcuccace," " Blueun," &c,
in the easy style that marks the perfect gentleman.* How proud
the old people were of him ! How they would sit listening to him,
flashing, and telling how Deuceace and he floored a Charley, or
Blueun and he pitched a snob out of the boxes into the pit. This
was in the old Tom-and- Jerry days, when fisty cuffs were the fashion.
One evening, after he [had indulged us with a more than usual
dose, and was leaving the room to dress for an eight o'clock dinner
at Long's, "Buzzer!" exclaimed the old man, clutching our arm,
as the tears started to his eyes, "Buzzer! that's an amaazin
instance of a pop'lar man ! " And certainly, if a large acquaint-
ance is a criterion of popularity, young Puflington, as he was then
called, had his fair share. He once did us the honour — an honour
we never shall forget — of walking down Bond-street with us, in
the spring-tide of fashion, of a glorious summer's day, when you
could not cross Conduit-street under a lapse of a quarter of an
hour, and carriages seemed to have come to an interminable lock
at the Piccadilly end of the street. In those days great people
went about like great people, in handsome hammer-clothed, arms-
emblazoned coaches, with plethoric three-corner-hatted coachmen,
and gigantic, lace-bedizened, quivering-calved Johnnies, instead
of rumbling along like apothecaries in pill-boxes, with a handle
inside to let themselves out. Young men, too, dressed as if they
were dressed — as if they were got up with some care and attention
— instead of wearing the loose, careless, flowing, sack-like garments
they do now.
We remember the day as if it were but yesterday ; Puffington
overtook us in Oxford-street, where we were taking our usual
sauntering stare into the shop-windows, and instead of shirking or
slipping behind our back, he actually ran his arm up to the hilt in
ours, and turned us into the middle of the flags, with an " Ah,
Buzzer, old boy, what are you doing in this debauched part of the
town ? come along with me, and Til show you Life ! "
So saying he linked arms, and pursuing our course at a proper
kill-time sort of pace, we were at length brought up at the end of
Vere-street, along which there was a regular rush of carriages,
cutting away as if they were going to a fire instead of to a finery
chop.
Many were the smiles, and bows, and nods, and finger kisses,
* Query, " snob ? " — Printer's Devil.
208 3111. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
and bright eyes, and sweet glances, that the fair flyers shot at our
friend as they darted past. We were lost in astonishment at the
sight. " Verily," said we, " but the old man was right. This is
an amawzin instance of a pop'lar man."
Young Puffington was then in the heyday of youth, about one-
and-twenty or so, fair-haired, fresh-complexioned, slim, and
standing, with the aid of high-heeled boots, little under six feet
high. He had taken after his mother, not after old Tom Trodgers,
as they called his papa. At length we crossed over Oxford-street,
and taking the shady side of Bond-street, were quickly among the
real swells of the world — men who crawled along as if life was a
perfect burden to them — men with eye-glasses fixed and tasselled
canes in their hands, scarcely less ponderous than those borne by
the footmen. Great Heavens ! but they were tight, and smart,
and shiny ; and Puffington was just as tight, and smart, and
shiny as any of them. He was as much in his element here as he
appeared to be out of it in Oxford-street. It might be prejudice,
or want of penetration on our part, but we thought he looked as
high-bred as any of them. They all seemed to know each other,
and the nodding, and winking, and jerking, began as soon as we
got across. Puff kindly acted as cicerone, or we should not have
been aware of the consequence we were encountering.
" "Well, Jemmy ! " exclaimed a dcbauched-looking youth to our
friend, " how are you ? — breakfasted yet ? "
"Going to," replied Puffington, whom they called Jemmy because
his name was Tommy.
" That," said he, in an undertone " is a capital fellow, — Lord
Legbail, eldest son of the Marquis of Loosefish — will be Lord
Loose fish. We were at the Finish together till six this morning —
such fun! — bonneted a Charley, stole his rattle, and broke an early
breakfast-man's stall all to shivers." Just then up came a broad-
brimmed hat, above a confused mass of greatcoats and coloured
shawls.
"Holloa, Jack?" exclaimed Mr. Puffington, laying hold of a
mother-of-pearl button, nearly as large as a tart-plate — " not off
yet ? "
" Just going," replied Jack, with a touch of his hat, as he rolled
on ; adding, " want aught down the road ? "
" What coachman is that ? " asked we.
" Coachman ! " replied Puff, with a snort ; " that's Jack Linch-
pin— Honourable Jack Linchpin — son of Lord Splinterbars, — best
gentleman coachman in England."
So Puffington sauntered along good morninging " Sir Harrys,"-
and " Sir Jameses," and " Lord Johns," and " Lord Toms," till
seeing a batch of irreproachable dandies flattening their noses
against the windows of the Sailors' Old Club, in whose eyes, he
ATI?. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 209
perhaps thought, our city coat and country gaiters -would not find
much favour, he gave us a hasty parting- squeeze of the arm, and
bolted into Long's just as a mountainous hackney-coach was
rumbling between us and them.
Bat to the old man. Time rolled on, and at length Old
Puffington paid the debt of nature — the only debt, by the way,
that he was slow in discharging, and our friend found himself in
possession, not only of the starch manufactory, but of a very great
accumulation of consols — so great that, though starch is as in-
offensive a thing as a man can well deal in, a thing that never
obtrudes itself, or, indeed, appears in a shop, unless it is asked for ;
notwithstanding all this, and though it was bringing him in lots
of money, our friend determined to " cut the shop " and be done
with trade altogether.
Accordingly, he sold the premises and good-will, with all the
stock of potatoes and wheat, to the foreman, old Soapsuds, al
something below what they were really worth, rather than make
any row in the way of advertising ; and the name of " Soapsuds,
Brothers, and Co." reigns on the blue-and-whity-brown parcel-ends,
wheie formerly that of Puffington stood supreme.
It is a melancholy fact, which those best acquainted with London
society can vouch for, that her " swells " are a very ephemeral race.
Take the last five-and-twenty years, — say from the days of the
Golden Ball and Pea-green Hayne down to those of Molly C 1
and Mr. D — 1 — f — Id, — and see what a succession of joyous — no,
not joyous, but rattling, careless, dashing, sixty-per-centing youths
we have had.
And where are they all now ? Some dead, some at Boulogne-
sur-Mer, some in Denman Lodge, some perhaps undergoing the
polite attentions of Mr. Commissioner Phillips, or figuring in
Mr. Hemp's periodical publication of gentlemen " who are
wanted."
In speaking of "swells," of course we are not alluding to men
with reference to their clothes alone, but to men whose dashing, and
perhaps eccentric, exteriors are but indicative of their general
system of extravagance. The man who rests his claims to distinc-
tion solely on his clothes will very soon find himself in want of
society. Many things contribute to thin the ranks of our swells.
Many, as we said before, outrun the constable. Some get fat,
some get married, some get tired, and a few get wiser. There is,
however, always a fine pushing crop coming on. A man like
Puffington, who starts a dandy (in contradistinction to a swell),
and adheres steadily to clothes — talking eternally of the cuts of
coats or the ties of cravats — up to the sober age of forty, must be
always falling back on the rising generation for society.
Puffington was not what the old ladies call a profligate young
210 MB. SPONGES SPORTING TOUR.
man. On the contrary, lie was naturally a nice, steady young
man ; and only indulged in the vagaries we have described
because they were indulged in by the high-born and gay.
Tom and Jerry had a great deal to answer for in the way of
leading soft-headed young men astray ; and old Puffington having
had the misfortune to christen our friend " Thomas," of course his
companions dubbed him " Corinthian Tom ; " by which name he
has been known ever since.
A man of such undoubted wealth could not be otherwise than a
great favourite with the fair, and innumerable were the invitations
that poured into his chambers in the Albany — dinner parties,
evening parties, balls, concerts, bones for the opera ; and as each
succeeding season drew to a close, invitations to those last efforts
of the desperate, beating and whitebait parties.
Corinthian Tom went to them all — at least, to as many as he
could manage — always dressing in the most exemplary way, as
though he had been asked to show his fine clothes instead of to
make love to the ladies. Manifold were the hopes and expecta-
tions that he raised. Puff could not understand that, though it is
all very well to be " an ani««zin instance of a pop'lar man " with
the men, that the same sort of thing does not do with the ladies.
We have heard that there were six mammas, bowling about in
their barouches, at the close of his second season, innuendoing,
nodding, and hinting to their friends, "that, &c," when there
wasn't one of their daughters who had penetrated the rhinoceros-
like hide of his own conceit. The consequence was, that all these
ladies, all their daughters, all the relations and connections of this
life, thought it incumbent upon them to " blow " our friend Puff
— proclaim how infamously he had behaved — all because he had
danced three supper dances with one girl ; brought another a fine
bouquet from Covcnt Garden ; and walked a third away from her
party at a pic-nic at Erith ; begged the mamma of a fourth to take
her to a Woolwich ball ; sent a fifth a ticket for a Toxophilitc
meeting ; and dangled about the carriage of the sixth at a review
at the Scrubbs. Poor Puff never thought of being more than an
amflazin instance of a pop'lar man !
Not that the ladies' denunciations did the Corinthian any harm
at first — old ladies know each other better than that ; and each
new mamma had no doubt but Mrs. Depecarde or Mrs. Main-
chance, as the case might be, had been deceiving herself — " was
always doing so, indeed ; her ugly girls were not likely to attract
any one — certainly not such an elegant man as Corinthian Tom."
But as season after season passed away, and the Corinthian still
played the old game — still went the old rounds — the dinner and
ball invitations gradually dwindled away, till he became a mere
stop-gap at the one, and a landing-place appendage at the other.
MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUB. 211
And now behold Mr. Pnffington, fat, fair, and rather more than
forty — Pnffington, no longer the light limber lad who patronised
us in Bond-street, but Pnffington a plump, portly sort of personage,
filling his smart clothes uncommonly full. Men no longer hailing
him heartily from bay windows, or greeting him cheerily in short but
familiar terms, but bowing ceremoniously as they passed with their
wives, or perhaps turning down streets or into shops to avoid him.
What is the last rose of summer to do under such circumstances ?
What, indeed, but retire into the country ? A man may shine there
long after he is voted a bore in town, provided none of his old friends
arc there to proclaim him. Country people are tolerant of twaddle,
and slow of finding things out for themselves. Puff now turned
his attention to the country, or rather to the advertisements of
estates for sale, and immortal George Eobins soon fitted him with
one of his earthly paradises ; a mansion replete with every modern
elegance, luxury, and convenience, situated in the heart of the
most lovely scenery in the world, with eight hundred acres of land
of the finest quality, capable of growing forty bushels of wheat
after turnips. In addition to the estate there was a lordship or
reputed lordship to shoot over, a river to fish in, a pack of fox-
hounds to hunt with, and the advertisements gave a sly hint as to
the possibility of the property influencing the representation of the
neighbouring borough of Swillingford, if not of returning the
member itself.
This was Hanby House, andthough the description undoubtedly
partook of George's usual high-flown couleur -de-rose style, the
manor being only a manor provided the owner sacrificed his
interest in Swillingford by driving off its poachers, and the river
being only a river when the tiny Swill was swollen into one, still
Hanby House was a very nice attractive sort of place, and seen in
the rich foliage of its summer dress, with all its roses and flower-
ing shrubs in full blow, the description was not so wide of the
mark as Piobins's descriptions usually were. Puff bought it, and
became what he called " a man of p-r-o-r-perty." To be sure, after
he got possession he found that it was only an acre here and there
that would grow forty bushels of wheat after turnips, and that
there was a good deal more to do at the house than lie expected,
the furniture of the late occupants having hidden many defects,
added to which they had walked off with almost everything they
could wrench down, under the name of fixtures ; indeed, there was
not a peg to hang up his hat when he entered. This, however,
was nothing, and Puff very soon made it into one of the most
perfect bachelor residences that ever was seen. Not but that it
was a family house, with good nurseries and offices of every
description ; but Puff used to take a sort of wicked pleasure in
telling the ladies who came trooping over with their (laughters,
p 2
212 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
pretending they thought he was from home, and wishing to see the
elegant furniture, that there was nothing in the nurseries, which
he was going to convert into billiard and smoking-rooms. This,
and a few similar sallies, earned our friend the reputation of a wit
in the country.
There was a great rush of gentlemen to call upon him ; many
of the mammas seemed to think that first come would be first
served, and sent their husbands over, before he was fairly squatted.
Various and contradictory were the accounts they brought home.
Men are so stupid at seeing and remembering things. Old Mr.
Muddle came back bemused with sherry, declaring that he thought
Mr. Puffington was as old as he was (sixty-two), while Mrs.
Mousetrap thought he wasn't more than thirty at the outside.
She described him as " painfully handsome." Mr. Slowan
couldn't tell whether the drawing-room furniture was chintz, or
damask, or what it was ; indeed, he wasn't sure that he was in
the drawing-room at all ; while Mr. Gapes insisted that the carpet
ivas a Turkey carpet, whereas it was a royal cut pile. It might be
that the smartness and freshness of everything confused the
bucolic minds, little accustomed to wholesale grandeur.
Mr. Puffington quite eclipsed all the old country families with
their " company rooms " and put-away furniture. Then, when he
began to grind about the country in his lofty mail-phaeton, with
a pair of spanking, high-stepping bays, and a couple of arm-folded,
lolling grooms, shedding his cards in return for their calls, there
was such a talk, such a commotion as had never been known
before. Then, indeed, he was appreciated at his true worth.
" Mr. Puffington was here the other day," said Mrs. Smirk to
Mrs. Smooth, in the well-known " great-deal-more-meant-than-
said " style. " Oh such a charming man ! Such ease ! such
manners ! such knowledge of high life ! "
Puff had been at his old tricks. He had resuscitated Lord
Legbail, now Earl of Loosefish ; imported Sir Harry Blueun from
somewhere near Geneva, whither he had retired on marrying his
mistress ; and resuscitated Lord Mudlark, who had broken his
neck many years before from his tandem in Piccadilly. Whatever
was said, Puff always had a duplicate or illustration involving a
nobleman. The great names might be rather far-fetched at times,
to be sure, but when people are inclined to be pleased, they don't
keep putting that and that together to gee how they fit, and
whether they come naturally, or are lugged in neck and heels.
Tuffs talk was very telling.
One great man to a house is the usual country allowance, and
many are not very long in letting out who theirs are ; but
Puffington seemed to have the whole peerage, baronetage, and
knightage at command. Old Mrs. Slyboots, indeed, thought that
MB. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR. 213
he must be connected with the peerage some way ; his mother,
perhaps, had been the daughter of a peer, and she gave herself an
infinity of trouble in hunting through the "matches" — with' what
success it is not necessary to say. The old ladies unanimously
agreed that he was a most agreeable, interesting young man ; and
though the young ones did pretend to run him down among them-
selves, calling him ugly, and so on, it was only in the vain hope of
dissuading each other from thinking of him.
Mr. Puffington still stuck to the "anw/zin' pop'lar man"
character ; a character that is not so convenient to support in the
country as it is in town. The borough of Swillingford, as we have
already intimated, was not the best conducted borough in the
world ; indeed, when we say that the principal trade of the place was
poaching, our country readers will be able to form a very accurate
opinion on that head. "When Puff took possession of Hanby there
was a fair show of pheasants about the house, and a good sprinkling
of hares and partridges over the estate and manor generally ; but
refusing to prosecute the first poachers that were caught, the rest
took the hint, and cleared everything off in a week, dividing the
plunder among them. They also burnt his river and bagged his
fine Dorking fowls, and all these feats being accomplished with
impunity, they turned their attention to his fat sheep.
" Poacher" is only a mild term for " thief."
Puff was a perfect milch-cow in the way of generosity. He gave
to everything and everybody, and did not seem to be acquainted
with any smaller sum than a five-pound note : a five-pound note
to replace Giles Jolter's cart-horse (that used to carry his own game
for the poachers to the poulterers at Plunderston) — five pounds to
buy Dame Doubletongue another pig, though she had only just
given three pounds for the one that died — five pounds towards the
fire at farmer Scratchley's, though it had taken place two years
before Puff came into the country, and Scratchley had been living
upon it ever since — and sundry other five pounds to other equally
deserving and amiable people. He put his name down for fifty to
the Mangeysterne hounds without ever being asked ; which
reminds us that we ought to be directing our attention to that
noble establishment.
It is hard to have to go behind the scenes of an ill-supported
hunt, and we will be as brief and tender with the cripples as we
can. The Mangeysterne hounds wanted that great ingredient of
prosperity, a large nest-egg subscriber, to whom all others could be
tributary — paying or not as might be convenient. The consequence
was they were always up the spout. They were neither a scratch
pack nor a regular pack, but something betwixt and between.
They were hunted by a saddler, who found his own horses, and
sometimes he had a whip and sometimes he hadn't. The estab-
214 MB. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR.
lishment died as often as old Mantalini himself. Every season
that came to a close was proclaimed to be their last, but somehow
or other they always managed to scramble into existence on the
approach of another. It is a way, indeed, that delicate packs have
of recruiting their finances. Nevertheless, the Mangeysternes did
look very like coming to an end about the time that Mr. Puffington
bought Hanby House. The saddler huntsman had failed ; John
Doehad taken one of his screws, and Richard Roe the other, and
anybody might have the hounds that liked : Puffington then
turned up.
Great was the joy diffused throughout the Mangeysterne
country when it transpired, through the medium of his valet, Louis
Bergamotte, that " his lor' had beaucoup habit rouge " in his
wardrobe. Not only habit rouge, but habit blue and buff, that he
used to sport with " Old Beaufort " and the Badminton hunt —
coats that he certainly had no chance of ever getting into again,
but still which he kept as memorials of the past — souvenirs of the
days when he was young and slim. The bottle-conjurer could just
as soon have got into his quart bottle as Puff could into the
Beaufort coat at the time of which we arc writing. The intelligence
of their existence was quickly followed by the aforesaid fifty-pound
cheque. A meeting of the Mangeysterne hunt was called at the
sign of the Thirsty Freeman in Swillingford — Sir Charles Figgs,
Knight — a large-promising but badly-paying subscriber — in the
chair, when it was proposed and carried unanimously that Mr.
Puffington was eminently qualified for the mastership of the hunt,
and that it be offered to him accordingly. Puff " bit." He
recalled his early exploits with " Mostyn and old Beaufort," and
resolved that the hunt had taken a right view of his abilities. In
coming to this decision he, perhaps, was not altogether uninfluenced
by a plausible subscription list, which seemed about equal to the
ordinary expenses, supposing that any reliance could be placed on
the figures and calculations of Sir Charles. All those, however,
who have had anything to do with subscription lists — and in these
days of universal testimonialising who has not ? — well know that
pounds upon paper and pounds in the pocket are very different
things. Above all Puff felt that he was a new man in the country,
and that taking the hounds would give him weight.
The " Mangeysterne dogs " then begnn to " look up ; " Mr.
Puffington took to them in earnest ; bought a " Beckford," and
shortened his military stirrups to a hunting seat.
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
215
CHAPTER XXXUI.
A SWELL HUNTSMAN.
AK " ama-a-zin' poplar" max.
One evening the rattle of Puff's pole-chains, brought, in addition
to the usual rush of shirt-sleeved helpers, an extremely smart,
dapper little man, who might be either a jockey or a gentleman, or
both, or neither. He was a clean-shaved, close-trimmed, spruce
little fellow ; remarkably natty about the legs— indeed, all over.
His close-napped hat was carefully brushed, and what little hair
21G ME. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
appeared below its slightly curved brim was of the pepper-and-salt
mixture of — say, fifty years. His face, though somewhat wrinkled
and weatherbeaten, was bright and healthy ; and there was a
twinkle about his little grey eyes that spoke of quickness and
watchful observation. Altogether, he was a very quick-looking
little man — a sort of man that would know what you were going
to say before you had well broke ground. He wore no gills ; and
his neatly tied starcher had a white ground with small black spots,
about the size of currants. The slight interregnum between it and
his step-collared striped vest (blue stripe on a canary-coloured
ground) showed three golden foxes* heads, acting as studs to his
well-washed, neatly-plaited shirt ; while a sort of careless turn
back of the right cuff showed similar ornaments at his wrists. His
single-breasted, cut-away coat was Oxford mixture, with a thin cord
binding, and very natty light kerseymere mother-o'-pearl buttoned
breeches, met a pair of bright, beautifully-fitting, rose-tinted tops,
that wrinkled most elegantly down to the Jersey-patterned spur.
He was a remarkably well got up little man, and looked the horse-
man all over.
As he emerged from the stable, where he had been mastering
the ins and outs of the establishment, learning what was allowed
and what was not, what had not been found fault with and, therefore,
might be presumed upon, and so on, he carried the smart dogskin
leather glove of one hand in the other, while the fox's head of a
massive silver-mounted jockey-whip peered from under his arm.
On a ring round the fox's neck was the following inscription : —
" From Jack Bragg to his cousin Dick."
Mr. Puffmgton having drawn up his mail-phaeton, and thrown
the ribbons to the active grooms at the horses' heads in the true
coaching style, proceeded to descend from his throne, and had
reached the ground ere he was aware of the presence of a stranger.
Seeing him then, he made a sort of half obeisance of a man that
does not know whether he is addressing a gentleman or a servant,
or, may be, a scamp, going about with a prospectus. Puff had
been bit in the matter of some maps in London, and was wary, as
all people ought to be, of these birds.
The stranger came sidling up with a half bow, half touch of the
hat, drawling out,
" 'Sceuuse me, sir — 'sceuuse me, sir," with another half bow
and another half touch of the hat. " I'm Mister Bragg, sir
— Mister Richard Bragg, sir ; of whom you have most likely
heard."
" Bragg— Ptichard Bragg," repeated our friend, thoughtfully,
Avhile he scanned the man's features, and run his sporting ac-
quaintance through his mind's eye. " Bragg, Bragg," repeated
he, without hitting him off.
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 217
" I was huntsman, sir, to my lord Beynard, sir," observed the
stranger, with a touch of the hat to each " sir." " Thought
pYaps you might have known his ludship, sir. Before him, sir,
I held office, sir, under the Duke of Downey bird, sir, of Downey-
bird Castle, sir, in Downeybirdshire, sir."
" Indeed ! " replied Mr. Puffington, with a half bow and a
smile of politeness.
" Hearing, sir, you had taken these Mangeysterne clogs, sir,"
continued the stranger, with rather a significant emphasis on the
word " dogs " — " hearing, sir, you had taken these Mangeysterne
dogs, sir, it occurred to me that possibly I might be useful to you,
sir, in your new calling, sir ; and if you were of the same 'pinion,
sir, why, sir, I should be glad to negotiate a connexion, sir."
" Hem ! — hem ! — hem ! " coughed Mr. Puffington. " In the
way of a huntsman do you mean ? " afraid to talk of servitude to
so fine a gentleman.
" Just so," said Mr. Bragg, with a chuck of his head — " just so.
The fact is, though I'm used to the grass countries, sir, and could
go to the Marquis of Maneylies, sir, to-morrow, sir, I should prefer
a quiet place in a somewhat inferior country, sir, to a five-days-a-
week one in the best. Five and six days a-week, sir, is a terrible
tax, sir, on the constitution, sir ; and though, sir, I'm thankful to
say, sir, I've pretty good 'ealth, sir, yet, sir, you know, sir, it don't
do, sir, to take too great liberties with oneself, sir ; " Mr. Bragg
sawing away at his hat as he spoke, measuring off a touch, as
it were, to each " sir," the action becoming quick towards the
end.
"Why, to tell you the truth," said Puff, looking rather sheepish
— " to tell you the truth — I intended — I thought at least of — of
— of — hunting them myself."
" Ah ! that's another pair of shoes altogether, as we say in
France," replied Bragg, with a low bow and a copious round of
the hand to the hat. " That's another pair of shoes altogether,"
repeated he, tapping his boot with his whip.
" Why I thought of it," rejoined Puff, not feeling quite sure
whether he could or not.
" Well," said Mr. Bragg, drawing on his dog-skin glove as if to
be off.
" My friend Swellcove docs it," observed Puff.
" True," replied Bragg, " true ; but my Lord Swellcove is one
of a thousand. See how many have failed for one that has suc-
ceeded. Why even my Lord Scamperdale was 'bliged to give it
up, and no man rides harder than my Lord Scamperdale — always
goes as if he had a spare neck in his pocket. But he couldn't
'unt a pack of 'ounds. Your gen'l'men 'untsmen are all very well
on fine scentin' days when everything goes smoothly and well,
213 ME. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUE.
and the 'ounds are tied to their fox as it were ; but see them in
difficulties — a failing scent, 'ounds pressed upon by the field, fox
chased by a dog, storm in the air, big brook to get over to make a
cast. Oh, sir, sir, it makes even me, with all my acknowledged
science and experience, shudder to think of the ordeal one
undergoes ! "
" Indeed," exclaimed Mr. Puffington, staring, and beginning to
think it mightn't be quite so easy as it looked.
" I don't wish, sir, to dissuade you, sir, from the attempt, sir,"
continued Mr. Bragg ; " far from it, sir — for he, sir, who never
makes an effort, sir, never risks a failure, sir, and in great at-
tempts, sir, 'tis glorious to fail, sir ;" Mr. Bragg sawing away at
his hat as he spoke, and then sticking the fox-head handle of his
whip under his chin.
Puff stood mute for some seconds.
" My Lord Scamperdale," continued Mr. Bragg, scrutinising
our friend attentively, "was as likely a man, sir, as ever I see'd,
sir, to make an 'untsman, for he had a deal of ret (rat) ketchin'
cunnin' about him, and, as I said before, didn't care one dim for
his neck, but a more signal disastrous failure was never recognised.
It was quite lamentable to witness his proceedins."
" How ? " asked Mr. Puffington.
" How, sir ? " repeated Mr. Bragg ; " why, sir, in all wayses.
He had no dog language, to begin with — he had little idea of
makin' a cast — no science, no judgment, no manner — no nothin'
— I'm dim'd if ever I see'd sich a mess as he made."
Putf looked unutterable things.
" He never did no good, in fact, till I fit him with Frostyface.
/ taught Frosty," continued Mr. Bragg. " He whipped in to me
when I 'unted the Duke of Downeybird's 'ounds — nice, 'cute,
civil chap he was — of all my pupils — aud I've made some first-rate
'untsmeu, I'm dim'd if I don't think Frostyface does me about as
much credit as any on 'cm. Ah, sir," continued Mr. Bragg, with
a shake of his head ; "take my word for it, sir, there's nothin'
like a professional. S-c-e-u-s-e me, sir," added he, with a low
bow and a sort of military salute of his hat ; " but dim all
gen'l'men 'untsmen, say I."
Mr. Bragg had talked himself into several good places, Lord
Reynard's and the Duke of Downeybird's among others. He had
never been able to keep any beyond his third season, his sauce or
his science being always greater than the sport he showed. Still
he kept up appearances, and was nothing daunted, it being a
maxim of his, that "as one door closed another opened."
Mr. Puffington's was the door that now opened for him.
What greater humiliation can a free-born Briton be subjected
to than paying a man eighty or a hundred pounds a-year, and
MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 210
finding him house, coals, and candles, and perhaps a cow, to be
his master ?
Such was the case with poor Mr. Puffington, and such, we
grieve to say, is the case with nine-tenths of the men who keep
hounds ; with all, indeed, save those who can hunt themselves, or
who are blessed with an aspiring whip, ready to step into the
huntsman's boots if he seems inclined to put them off in the field.
How many portly butlers are kept in subjection by having a foot-
man ready to supplant them. Of all cards in the servitude pack,
however, the huntsman's is the most difficult one to play. A man
may say, " I'm dim'd if I won't clean my own boots or my own
horse, before I'll put up with such a fellow's impudence ;" but
when it comes to hunting his own hounds, it is quite another pair
of shoes, as Mr. Bragg would say.
Mr. Bragg regularly took possession of poor Puff ; as regularly
as a policeman takes possession of a prisoner. The reader knows
the sort of feeling one has when a lawyer, a doctor, an architect,
or any one whom we have called in to assist, takes the initiative,
and treats one as a nonentity, pooh-poohing all one's pet ideas,
and upsetting all one's well-considered arrangements.
Bragg soon saw he had a greenhorn to deal with, and treated
Puff accordingly. If a " perfect servant " is only to be got out of
the establishments of the great, Mr. Brag? might be looked upon
as a paragon of perfection, and now combined in his own person
all the bad practices of all the places he had been in. Having
" accepted Mr. Puffington's situation," as the elegant phraseology
of servitude goes, he considered that Mr. Puffington had nothing
more to do with the hounds, and that any interference in " his
department" was a piece of impertinence. Puffington felt like a
man who has bought a good horse, but which he finds on riding
is rather more of a horse than he likes. He had no doubt that
Bragg was a good man, but he thought he was rather more of a
gentleman than he required. On the other hand, Mr. Bragg's
opinion of his master may be gleaned from the following letter
which he wrote to his successor, Mr. Brick, at Lord Beynard's : —
" Haxby House, Swillixgfoed.
"Dear Brick,
" If your old mem is done daffling with yovr draft, I should
like to have the pick of if. Tm with one Mr. Puffington, a city
gent. His father was a great confectioner in the Poultry, just by
the Mansion House, and made his money out of Lord Mares.
I shall only stay with him till I can get myself suited in the rank
of life in which I hare been accustomed to move ; but in the mean-
time I consider it necessary for my own credit to do things as they
should be. You know my sort of hound; good shoulders, deep
220 MM. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
chests, strong loins, straight legs, round feet, with plenty of lone all
over. I hate a weedy animal; a small hound, light of bone, is
only fit to hunt a katin a kitchen.
" I shall also ivant a couple of whips — not fellows Wee waiters
from Crawley's hotel, but light, active men, not bogs. I'll have
nothiri to do with bogs ; evcrg bog requires a man to look arter him.
No ; a couple of short, light, active men — say from five-and-twenty
to thirty ', with bow-legs and good cheerg voices, as nearly of the same
make as you can find them. I shall not give them large wage, you
know ; but they will have opportunities of improving themselves
under me, and qualifying themselves for high places. But mind,
they must be steady — I'll keep no unsteady servants; the first
act of drunkenness, ivith me, is the last.
"I shall also ivant a second horseman; and here I would/it
mind a mule boy who could keep his elbows down and never touch
the curb ; but he must be bred in the line ; a huntsman's second
Iwrseman is a critical article, and the sporting ivorld must not be
put in mourning for Dick Bragg. The lad will have to clean mg
boots, and wait at table when I have compang — yourself, for
instance.
" This is only a poor, rough, ungentlemanly sort of shire, as far
as I have seen of it ; and however they got on ivith the things I
found that they called hounds I can't for the life of me imagine. I
understand they ivent stringing over the country like a flock of wild
geese. Hoivcver, I have rectified that in a manner bg knocking all
the fast 'uns and slow' wis on the head; and I shall require at
least twenty couple before I can take the field. In your official
report of what your old file puts back, you 11 have the kindness to
cobble ns up good long pedigrees, and carry half of them at least back
to the Beaufort Justice. My man Ms yot a crochet into his head
about that hound, and I'm dimmed if he doesn't think half the
hounds in England are descended from the Beaufort Justice. These
hounds are at present called the Mangeysternes, a very proper title, I
should sag, from all Tve seen and heard. That, however, must be
changed ; and we must have a button struck, instead of the plain
pewter plates the men have been in the habit of hunting in.
" As to horses, I'm sure I cloiit know what we are to do in that
line. Our pastrycook seems to think that a hunter, like one of his
jjo's pies, can be made and baked in a day. He talks of going over
to Rowdcdow Fair, and picking some up himself; but I should say
a gentleman demeans himself sadly who interferes with the just
prerogative of the groom. It has never been allowed I know in any
place I have lived ; nor do I think servants do justice to themselves
or their order who submit to it. Howsomever, the crittur 1ms
what Mr. Cobden would call the 'raiv material"1 for sport — that
is to say, plenty of money — and I must see and apply it in such a
MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 221
way as will produce it. Fll do the thing as it should he, or not at
all
"I hope your good lady is well — also all the little Brides. 1
purpose making a little tower of some of the lest kennels as soon as
the drafts arc arranged, and will spend a clay or two with you, and
see how you get on without me. Dear Brick,
" Yours to the far end,
" Richard Bragg.
"To Benjamin Crick. Esq.,
Huntsman to the Right Hon. the Earl of Reynard,
Turkeypout Park.
" P.S. — I hope your old man keeps a cleaner tongue in his head
than he did when I was premier. I 'always say there was a good
bargeman spoiled when theg made him a lord.
"K. B."
There is nothing more indicative of real fine people than the
easy indifferent sort of way they take leave of their friends. They
never seem to care a farthing for parting.
Our friend Jawleyford was quite a man of fashion in this
respect. He saw Sponge's preparations for departure with an un-
concerned air, and a — " sorry you're going," was all that accom-
panied an imitation shake, or rather touch of the hand, on leaving
There was no " I hope we shall see you again soon," or " Pray
look in if you are passing our way," or " Now that you've found
your way here we hope you'll not be long in being back," or any
of those blarneyments that fools take for earnest and wise men for
nothing. Jawleyford had been bit once, and he was not going to
give Mr. Sponge a second chance. Amelia too, we are sorry to
say, did not seem particularly distressed, though she gave him just
as much of a sweet look as he squeezed her hand, as said, " Now.
if you should be a man of money, and my Lord Scamperdale does
not make me my lady, you may," &c.
There is an old saying, that it is well to be "off with the old love
before one is on with the new," and Amelia thought it was well to
be on with the new love before she was off with the old. Sponge,
therefore, was to be in abeyance.
We mentioned the delight infused into Jawleyford Court by the
receipt of Lord Scamperdale's letter, volunteering a visit, nor was
his lordship less gratified at hearing in reply that Mr. Sponge was
on the eve of departure, leaving the coast clear for his reception.
His lordship was not only delighted at getting rid of his horror,
but at proving the superiority of his judgment over that of Jack,
who had always stoutly maintained that the only way to get rid of
Mr. Sponge was by buying his horses.
222 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
" Well, that's good,'''' said his lordship, as he read the letter ;
"that's good,'1'' repeated he, with a hearty slap of his thigh. " Jaw's
not such a bad chap after all ; worse chaps in the world than
Jaw." And his lordship worked away at the point till he very
nearly got him up to be a good chap.
They say it never rains but it pours, and letters seldom come
singly, at least if they do, they are quickly followed by others.
As Jack and his lordship were discussing their gin, after a
repast of cow-heel and batter-pudding, Baggs entered with the old
brown weather-bleached letter-bag, containing a county paper, the
second-hand copy of BelVs Life, that his lordship and Frostyface
took in between them, and a very natty " thick cream-laid " paper
note.
" That must be from a woman," observed Jack, squinting ar-
dently at the writing, as his lordship inspected the line seal.
" Not far wrong," replied his lordship. " From a bitch of a
fellow, at all events," said he, reading the words " Hanby House "
in the wax.
" AVhat can old Puffey be wanting now ? " inquired Jack.
" Some bother about hounds, most likely," replied his lordship,
breaking the seal, adding, the thing's always amusing itself with
playing at sportsman. Hang his impudence ! " exclaimed his
lordship, as he opened the note.
" "What's happened now ? " asked Jack.
" How d'ye think he begins ? " asked his lordship, looking at
his friend.
" Can't tell, I'm sure," said Jack, squinting his eyes inside out.
" Dear Scamp ! " exclaimed his lordship, throwing out his arms.
" Dear Scamp ! " repeated Jack in astonishment. " It must be
a mistake. It must be dear Frost, not dear Scamp."
" Dear Scamp is the word," replied his lordship, again applying
himself to the letter. " Dear Scamp," repeated he, with a snort,
adding, " the impudent button-maker ! I'll dear Scamp him !
' Dear Scamp, our friend Sponge ! ' Bo-o-y the powers, just fancy
that ! " exclaimed his lordship, throwing himself back in his chair,
as if thoroughly overcome with disgust. " Our friend Sponge 1
the man who nearly knocked me into the middle of the week after
next — the man who, first and last, has broken every bone in my
skin — the man who I hate the sight of, and detest afresh every
time I see — the ' Domination of all 'Dominations ; and then to call
him our friend Sponge ! ' Our friend Sponge,' " continued his
lordship, reading, " ' is coming on a visit of inspection to my
hounds, and I should be glad if you Avould meet him.' "
" Shouldn't wonder ! " exclaimed Jack.
" Meet him ! " snapped his lordship ; " I'd go ten miles to avoid
him."
MR. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR. 223
'"Glad if you would meet him,'" repeated his lordship, re-
turning to the letter, and reading as follows : " ' If you bring a
couple of nags or so we can put them up, and you may get a
wrinkle or two from Bragg.' A wrinkle or two from Bragg ! "
exclaimed his lordship, dropping the letter and rolling in his chair
with laughter. " A Avrinkle or two from Bragg ! — he — he — he —
he ! The idea of a wrinkle or two from Bragg ! — haw — haw —
haw — haw ! "
" That beats cockfightin'," observed Jack, scpiinting frightfully.
" Doesn't it ? " replied his lordship. " The man who's so brim-
ful of science that he doesn't kill above three brace of foxes in a
season."
" Which Puff calls thirty," observed Jack.
" Th-i-r-ty ! " exclaimed his lordship ; adding, " I'll lay he'll
not kill thirty in ten years."
His lordship then picked the letter from the floor, and resumed
where he had left off.
" 'I expect you will meet Tom Washball, Lumpleg, and Charley
Slapp.' "
" A very pretty party," observed Jack ; adding, " Wouldn't be
seen goin' to a bull-bait with any on 'em."
" Nor I," replied his lordship.
"Birds of a feather," observed Jack.
"Just so," said his lordship, resuming his reading.
" ' I think I have a hound that may be useful to you — ' The
devil you have ! " exclaimed his lordship, grinding his teeth with
disgust. " Useful to me, you confounded haberdasher ! — you
hav'n't a hound in your pack that I'd take. ' I think I have a
hound that may be useful to you — ' " repeated his lordship.
" A Beaufort Justice one, for a guinea ! " interrupted Jack ;
adding, " He got the name into his head at Oxford, and has been
harping upon it ever since."
" ' I think I have a hound that may be useful to you — ' " re-
sumed his lordship, for the third time. "'It is Old Merriman, a
remarkably stout, true line hunting hound; but who is getting
slow for me — ' Slow for you, you beggar ! " exclaimed his lord-
ship ,- " I should have thought nothin' short of a wooden 'un would
have been too slow for you. ' He is a six-season hunter, and is by
Fitzwilliam's Singwell, out of his Darling. Singwell was by the
Rutland Rallywood, out of Tavistock's Rhapsody. Ptallywood was
by Old Lonsdale's—' Old Lonsdale's ! — the snob ! " sneered Lord
Scamperdale — " ' Old Lonsdale's Palafox, out of Anson's — '
" Anson's ! — curse the fellow," again muttered his lordship —
" ' out of Anson's Madrigal. Darling was by Old Grafton's
Bolivar, out of Blowzy. Bolivar was by the Brocklesby ; that's
Yarborough's— ' That's Yarborough's ! " sneered his lordship.
224 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
" as if one didn't know that as well as him — ' hy the Brocklcsby ;
that's Yarborough's Marmion out of Petre's Matchless ; and
Marmion was by that undeniable hound, the — ' the — what ? "
asked his lordship.
" Beaufort Justice, to be sure ! " replied Jack.
" ' The Beaufort Justice ! ' " read his lordship, with due
emphasis.
" Hurrah ! " exclaimed Jack, waving the dirty, egg-stained,
mustardy copy of Bell's Life over his head. " Hurrah ! I told
you so."
" But hark to Justice ! " exclaimed his lordship, resuming his
reading. " ' I've, always been a great admirer of the Beaufort
Justice blood — ' "
" No doubt," said Jack ; " it's the only blood you know."
" ' It Avas in great repute in the Badminton country in Old
Beaufort's time, with whom I hunted a great deal many years ago,
I'm sorry to say. The late Mr. "VVarde, who, of course, was very
justly partial to his own sort, had never any objection to breeding
from this Beaufort Justice. He was of Lord Egremont's blood,
by the New Forest Justice ; Justice by Mr. Gilbert's Jasper ; and
Jasper, bred by Egremont — ' Oh, the hosier ! " exclaimed his
lordship ; " he'll be the death of me."
"Is that all?" asked Jack, as his lordship seemed lost in
meditation.
" All ? — no ! " replied he, starting up, adding : " Here's some-
thing about you."
" Me ! " exclaimed Jack.
" ' If Mr. Spraggon is with you, and you like to bring him, I
can manage to put him up too,' " read his lordship. " "What
think you of that ? " asked his lordship, turning to our friend,
who was now squinting his eyes inside out with anger.
" Think of it ! " retorted Jack, kicking out his legs — " think of
it ! — why, I think he's a dim'd impittant feller, as Bragg would
say."
" So he is," replied his lordship ; " treating my friend Jack
so."
" I've a good mind to go," observed Jack, after a pause, think-
ing he might punish Puff, and try to do a little business with
Sponge. " I've a good mind to go," repeated he ; "just by way
of paying Mr. Puff off. He's a consequential jackass, and wants
taking down a peg or two."
" I think you may as well go and do it," replied his lordship,
after thinking the matter over ; " I think you may as well go and do
it. Not that he'll be good to take the conceit out of, but you may
vex him a bit ; and also learn something of the movements of his
friend Sponge. If he sarves Puff out as he's sarved me," continued
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 225
his lordship, rabbins: his ribs with his elbows, " he'll very soon
have enough of him."
" "Well," said Jack, " I really think it will be worth doing.
I've never been at the beggar's shop, and they say he lives well."
" Well, aye ! " exclaimed his lordship ; " fat o' the land — dare
say that man has fish and soup every day."
"And wax-candles to read by, most likely," observed Jack,
squinting at the dim mutton-fats that Baggs now brought in.
" Not so grand as that" observed his lordship, doubting
whether any man could be guilty of such extravagance ; " Com-
posites, p'raps."
It being decided that Jack should answer Mr. Puffington's
invitation as well and saucily as he could, and a sheet of very
inferior paper being at length discovered in the sideboard drawer,
our friends forthwith proceeded to concoct it. Jack having at
length got all square, and the black-ink lines introduced below,
dipped his pen in the little stone ink-bottle, and, squinting up at
his lordship, said,
" How shall I begin ? "
" Begin ? " replied he. " Begin — oh, let's see — begin — begin,
* Dear Puff,' to be sure."
" That'll do," said Jack, writing away.
(" Dear Puff ! " sneered our friend, when he read it ; " the idea
of a fellow like that writing to a man of my p-r-o-r-perty that
way.")
" Say ' Scamp,' " continued his lordship, dictating again, " ' is
engaged, but I'll be with you at feeding-time.' "
(" Scamp's engaged," read Puffington, with a contemptuous
curl of the lip— "Scamp's engaged : I like the impudence of a
fellow like that calling noblemen nicknames.")
The letter concluded by advising Puffington to stick to the
Beaufort Justice blood, for there was nothing in the world like it.
And now, having got both our friends booked for visits, we must
yield precedence to the nobleman, and accompany him to Jawley-
ford Court.
226
ME. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
LORD SCA.UPERDALE AT JAWLEYFORD COURT.
LORD SCAMPERDALE AS HE APPEARED IN HIS " SWELL " CLOTHES.
Although we have hitherto depicted Lord Seainperdale either
in his great uncouth hunting-clothes, or in the flare-up red and
yellow Stunner tartan, it must not be supposed that he had not
line clothes when he chose to wear them, only he wanted to save
them, as he said, to be married in. That he had fine ones, indeed,
was evident from the rig-out he lent Jack, when that worthy went
to Jawleyford Court, and, in addition to those which were of the
evening order, he had an uncommonly smart Stultz frock-coat,
with a velvet collar, facings, and cuff's, and a silk lining. Though
so rough and ready among the men, he was quite the dandy
among the ladies, and was as anxious about his appearance as a
girl of sixteen. He got himself clipped and trimmed, and shaved
with the greatest care, curving his whiskers high on to the cheek-
bones, leaving a great breadth of bare fallow below.
Baggs the butler was despatched betimes to Jawleyford Court
MB. SPONGE'S SPOBTING TOUB. 227
with the dog-cart freighted with clothes, driven by a groom to
attend to the horses, while his lordship mounted his galloping grey
hack towards noon, anl dashed through the country like a comet.
The people, who were only accustomed to see him in his short,
country-cut hunting-coats, baggy breeches, and shapeless boots,
could hardly recognise the frock-coated, fancy-vested, military-
trousered swell, as Lord Scamperdale. Even Titus Grabbington,
the superintendent of police, declared that he wouldn't have known
him but for his hat and specs. The latter, we need hardly say,
were the silver ones — the pair that he would not let Jack have
when he went to Jawleyford Court. So his lordship went capering
and careering along ; avoiding, of course, all the turnpike-gates,
of which he had a mortal aversion.
Jawleyford Court was in full dress to receive him — everything
wras full fig. Spigot appeared in buckled shorts and black silk
stockings ; while vases of evergreens and winter flowers mounted
sentiy on passage tables and landing-places. Everything bespoke
the elegant presence of the fair.
To the credit of Dame Fortune let us record that everything
went smoothly and well. Even the kitchen fire behaved as it
ought. Neither did Lord Scamperdale arrive before he was
wanted, a very common custom with people unused to public
visiting. He cast up just when he was wanted. His ring of the
door-bell acted like the little tinkling-bell at a theatre, sending all
parties to their places, for the curtain to rise.
Spigot and his two footmen answered the summons, while his
lordship's groom rushed out of a side-door, with his mouth full of
cold meat, to take his hack.
Having given his flat hat to Spigot, his whip-stick to one foot-
man, and his gloves to the other, he proceeded to the family
lableau in the drawing-room.
Though his lordship lived so much by himself he was neither
gauche nor stupid when he went into society. Unlike Mr.
Spraggon, he had a tremendous determination of words to the
mouth, and went best pace with his tongue instead of coughing
and hemming, and stammering and stuttering, wishing himself
" well out of it," as the saying is. His seclusion only seemed to
sharpen his faculties and make him enjoy society more. He
gushed forth like a pent-up fountain. He was not a bit afraid of
the ladies — rather the contrary ; indeed, he would make love to
them all — all that were good-looking, at least, for he always
candidly said that he "wouldn't have anything to do with the
ugly 'uns." If anything, he was rather too vehement, and talked
to the ladies in such an earnest, interested sort of way, as made
even bystanders think there was " something in it," whereas, in
point of fact, it was mere manner.
Q 2
228 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
He began as soon as ever he got to Jawlcyford Court, — at least
as soon as he had paid his respects all round and got himself
partially thawed at the fire ; for the cold had struck through his
person, his fine clothes being a poor substitute for his thick double-
milled red coat, blankety waistcoat, and Jersey shirt.
There are some good-natured well-meaning people in this world
who think that fox-hunters can talk of nothing but hunting, and
who put themselves to very serious inconvenience in endeavouring
to get up a little conversation for them. We knew a bulky old
boy of this sort, who invariably, after the cloth was drawn, and be
had given each leg a kick-out to see if they were on, commenced
with, " Well, I suppose Mr. Harkington has a fine set of dogs this
season ? " " A fine set of dogs this season ! " What an observa-
tion ! How on earth could any one hope to drive a conversation
on the subject with such a commencement ?
Some ladies are equally obliging in this respect. They can
stoop to almost any subject that they think will procure them
husbands. Music ! — if a man is fond of music, they will sing
themselves into his good graces in no time. Painting ! — oh, they
adore painting — though in general they don't profess to be great
hands at it themselves. Balls, boating, archery, racing, — all these
they can take a lively interest in ; or, if occasion requires, can go
on the serious tack and hunt a parson with penny subscriptions
for a clothing-club or soup-kitchen.
Fox-hunting ! — we do not know that fox-hunting is so safe a
speculation for young ladies as any of the foregoing. There are
many pros and cons in the matter of the chase. A man may
think — especially in these hard times, with " wheat below forty,"
as Mr. Springwheat would say — that it will be as much as he can
do to mount himself. Again, he may not think a lady looks any
better for running down with perspiration, and being daubed with
mud. Above all, if he belongs to the worshipful company of
Craners, he may not like for his wife to be seen beating him across
country.
Still, there are many ways that young ladies may insinuate
themselves into the good graces of sportsmen without following
them into the hunting-field. Talking about their horses, above all
admiring them, — taking an interest in their sport, — seeing that
they have nice papers of sandwiches to take out with them, — or
recommending them to be bled when they come home with dirty
faces after falls.
Miss Amelia Jawleyford, who was most elegantly attired in a
sea-green silk dress with large imitation pearl buttons, claiming
the usual privilege of seniority of birth, very soon led the charge
against Lord Scamperdale.
" Oh, what a lovely horse that is you were riding," observed
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 229
Bhe, as his lordship kept stooping with both his little red fists close
into the bars of the grate.
" Isn't it ! " exclaimed he, rubbing his hands heartily together.
" Isn't it ! " repeated he ; adding, " That's what I call a clipper."
" Why do you call it so ? " asked she.
" Oh, I don't mean that clipper is its name," replied he ;
" indeed, we call her Cherry Bounce in the stable, — but she's what
they call a clipper — a good 'un to go, you know," continued he,
staring at the fair speaker through his great, formidable
spectacles.
We believe there is nothing frightens a woman so much as
staring at her through spectacles. A barrister in barnacles is a
far more formidable cross-examiner than one without. But, to
his lordship's hack.
"Will he eat bread out of your hand ? " asked Amelia ; adding,
" I should so like a horse that would eat bread out of my hand."
" Oh, yes ; or cheese either," replied his lordship, who was a bit
of a wag, and as likely to try a horse with one as the other.
" Oh, how delightful ! what a charming horse ! " exclaimed
Amelia, turning her fine eyes up to the ceiling.
"Are you fond of horses ? " asked his lordship, smacking one
hand against the other, making a noise like the report of a pistol.
" Oh, so fond ! " exclaimed Amelia, with a start ; for she hadn't
got through her favourite, and, as she thought, most attractive
attitude.
" Well, now, that's nice," said his lordship, giving his other
hand a similar bang ; adding, " I like a woman that's fond of
horses."
"Then 'Melia and you'll 'gree nicely," observed Mrs. Jawley-
ford, who was always ready to give a helping hand to her own
daughters, at least.
" I don't doubt it ! " replied his lordship, with emphasis, and a
third bang of his hand, louder if possible than before. " And do
you like horses ? " asked his lordship, darting sharply round on
Emily, who had been yielding, or rather submitting, to the
precedence of her sister.
" Oh, yes ; and hounds, too ! " replied she, eagerly.
" And hounds, too ! " exclaimed his lordship, with a start, and
another hearty bang of the fist ; adding, " Well, now, I like a
woman that likes hounds."
Amelia frowned at the unhandsome march her sister had stolen
upon her. Just then in came Jawleyford, much to the annoyance
of all parties. A host should never show before the dressing-bell
rings.
When that glad sound was at length heard, the ladies, as usual,
immediately withdrew ; and of course the first thing Amelia did
230 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
when she got to her room was to rim to the glass to see how she
had been looking ; when, grievous to relate, she found an angry
hot spot in the act of breaking out on her nose.
What a distressing situation for a young lady, especially one
with a spectacled suitor. " Oh, dear ! " she thought, as she eyed
it in the glass, " it will look like Vesuvius itself through his
formidable inquisitors." Worst of all, it was on the side she
would have next him at dinner, should he choose to sit with his
back to the fire. However, there was no help for it, and the maid
kindly assuring her, as she worked away at her hair, that it
" would never be seen," she ceased to watch it, and turned her
attention to her toilette. The fine, new broad-lace flounced, light
blue satin dress — a dress so much like a ball-dress as to be only
appreciable as a dinner one by female eyes — was again in requisi-
tion ; while her fine arms were encircled with chains and armlets
of various brilliance and devices. Thus attired, with a parting
inspection of the spot, she swept down stairs, with as smart a
bouquet as the season would afford. As luck would have it, she
encountered his lordship himself wandering about the passage in
search of the drawing-room, of whose door he had not made a
sufficient observation on leaving. He, too, was uncommonly
smart, with the identical dress-coat Mr. Spraggon wore, a white
waistcoat with turquoise buttons, a lace-frilled shirt, and a most
extensive once-round Joinville. He had been eminently successful
in accomplishing a tie that would almost rival the sticks farmers
put upon truant geese to prevent their getting through gaps or
under gates.
Well, Miss Amelia having come to his lordship's assistance, and
eased him of his candle, now showed him into the drawing-room ;
and his hands being disengaged, like a true Englishman, he must
be doing, and accordingly he commenced an attack on her
bouquet.
" That's a fine nosegay ! " exclaimed he, staring and running
his snub nose into the midst of it.
" Let me give you a piece," replied Amelia, proceeding to detach
some of the best.
" Do," replied his lordship, banging one hand against the other;
adding, " I'll wear it next my heart of hearts."
In sidled Miss Emily just as his lordship was adjusting it in
his buttonhole, and the inconstant man immediately chopped over
to her.
" Well, now, that is a beautiful nosegay ! " exclaimed he,
turning upon her in precisely the same way, with a bang of the
hand and a dive of his nose into Emily's.
She did not offer him any, and his lordship continued his atten-
tion to her until Mrs. Jawleyford entered.
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 231
Dinner was presently announced ; but bis lordship, instead of
choosing- to sit with his back to the fire, took the single chair
opposite, which gave him a commanding view of the young ladies.
He did not, however, take any advantage of his position during
the repast, neither did he talk much, his maxim being to let his
meat stop his mouth. The preponderance of his observations,
perhaps, were addressed to Amelia, though a watchful observer
might have seen that the spectacles were oftener turned upon
Emily. Up to the withdrawal of the cloth, however, there was
no perceptible advantage on either side.
As his lordship settled to the sweets, at which he was a great
hand at dessert, Amelia essayed to try her influence with the
popular subject of a ball.
" I wish the members of your hunt would give us a ball, my
lord," observed she.
" Ah, hay, hum, ball," replied he, ladling up the syrup of some
preserved peaches that he had been eating ; " ball, ball, ball. No
place to give it — no place to give it," repeated he.
" Oh, give it in the town-hall, or the long room at the Angel,"
replied she.
" Town-hall — long room at the Angel — Angel at the long room
of the town-hall — oh, certainly, certainly, certainly," muttered he,
scraping away at the contents of his plate.
" Then that's a bargain, mind," observed Amelia, significantly.
" Bargain, bargain, bargain — certainly," replied he ; " and I'll
lead off with you, or you'll lead off with me — whichever way it is —
meanwhile, I'll trouble you for a piece of that gingerbread."
Having supplied him with a most liberal slice, she resumed the
subject of the ball.
" Then we'll fix it so," observed she.
" Oh, fix it so, certainly— certainly fix it so," replied his lord-
ship, filling his mouth full of gingerbread.
" Suppose we have it on the day of the races ? " continued
Amelia.
" Couldn't be better," replied his lordship ; " couldn't be
better," repeated he, eyeing her intently through, his formidable
specs.
His lordship was quite in the assenting humour, and would
have agreed to anything — anything short of lending one a five-
pound note.
Amelia was charmed with her success. Despite the spot on her
nose, she felt she was winning.
His lordship sat like a target, shot at by all, but making the
most of his time, both in the way of eating and staring between
questions.
At length the ladies withdrew, and his lordship having waddled
232 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
to the door to assist their egress, now availed himself of Jawley-
ford's invitation to occupy an arm-chair during the enjoyment of
his " Wintle."
"Whether it was the excellence of the beverage, or that his lord-
ship was unaccustomed to wine-drinking, or that Jawleyford's
conversation was unusually agreeable, we know not, but the
summons to tea and coffee was disregarded, and when at length
they did make their appearance, his lordship was what the ladies
call rather elevated, and talked thicker than there was any occasion
for. He was very voluble at first — told all how Sponge had
knocked him about, how he detested him, and wouldn't allow him
to come to the hunt ball, &c. ; but he gradually died out, and at
last fell asleep beside Mrs. Jawleyford on the sofa, with his little
legs crossed, and a half-emptied cofi'ee-cup in his hand, which Mr.
Jawleyford and she kept anxiously watching, expecting the con-
tents to be over the fine satin furniture every moment.
In this pleasant position they remained till he awoke himself
with a hearty snore, and turned the coffee over on to the carpet.
Fortunately there was little damage done, and, it being nearly
twelve o'clock, his lordship waddled off to bed.
Amelia, when she came to think matters over in the retirement
of her own room, was well satisfied with the progress she had
made. She thought she only wanted opportunity to capture him.
Though she was most anxious for a good night in order that she
might appear to advantage in the morning, sleep forsook her
eyelids, and she lay awake long thinking what she would do when
she was my lady — how she would warm Woodmansterne, and
what a dashing equipage she would keep. At length she dropped
off, just as she thought she was getting into her well-appointed
chariot, showing a becoming portion of her elegantly turned
ankles.
In the morning she attired herself in her new light satin blue
i*obe, corsage Albanaise, with a sort of three-quarter sleeves, and
muslin under ones — something, we believe, out of the last book of
fashion. She also had her hair uncommonly well arranged, and
sported a pair of clean primrose-coloured gloves. " Now for
victory," said she, as she took a parting glance at herself in
general, and the hot spot in particular.
Judge of her disgust on meeting her mamma on the staircase
at learning that his lordship had got up at six o'clock, and had
gone to meet his hounds on the other side of the county. That
Baggs had boiled his oatmeal porridge in his bedroom, and his
lordship had eaten it as he was dressing.
It may be asked, what Avas the maid about not to tell her.
The fact is, that ladies'-maids are only numb hands in all that
relates to hunting, and though Juliana knew that his lordship
If 22. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR. 233-
was up, she thought he had gone to have his hunt before break-
fast, just as the young gentlemen in the last place she lived in
used to go and have a bathe.
Baggs, we may add, was a married man, and Juliana and he
had not had much conversation.
The reader will now have the kindness to consider that Mr.
Puffington has undergone his swell huntsman, Dick Bragg, for
three whole years, during which time it was difficult to say whether
his winter's service or his summer's impudence was most oppressive.
Either way, Mr. Puffington had had enough both of him and the
honours of hound-keeping. Mr. Bragg was not a judicious
tyrant. He lorded it too much over Mr. Puffington ; was too
fond of showing himself off, and exposing his master's ignorance
before the servants, and field. A stranger would have thought
that Mr. Bragg, and not " Mr. Puff," as Bragg called him, kept
the hounds. Mr. Puffington took it pretty quietly at first, Bragg
inundating him with what they did at the Duke of Downeybird's,
Lord Reynard's, and the other great places in which he had lived,
till he almost made Puff believe that such treatment was a
necessary consequence of hound-keeping. Moreover, the cost was
heavy, and the promised subscriptions were almost wholly
imaginary ; even if they had been paid, they would not have
covered a quarter of the expense Mr. Bragg run him to ; and,
worst of all, there was an increasing instead of a diminishing
expenditure. Trust a servant for keeping things up to the
mark.
All things, however, have an end, and Mr. Bragg began to get
to the end of Mr. Puff's patience. As Puff got older he got fonder
of his five-pound notes, and began to scrutinise bills and ask
questions ; to be, as Mr. Bragg said, "very little of the gentle-
man ; " Bragg, however, being quite one of your " make-hay-
while-the-sun-shines " sort, and knowing too well the style of
man to calculate on a lengthened duration of office, just put on
the steam of extravagance, and seemed inclined to try how much
he could spend for his master. His bills for draft hounds were
enormous ; he was continually chopping and changing his horses,
often almost without consulting his master ; he had a perfect
museum of saddles and bridles, in which every invention and
variety of bit was exhibited ; and he had paid as much as twenty
pounds to different "valets" and grooms for invaluable recipes
for cleaning leather breeches and gloves. Altogether, Bragg
overdid the thing ; and when Mr. Puffington, in the solitude of a
winter's day, took pen, ink, and paper, and drew out a " balance
sheet," he found that on the average of six brace of foxes to the
season, they had cost him about three hundred pounds a-head
killing. It was true that Bragg always returned five or six-and-
234 ME. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
twenty brace ; but that was as between Bragg and the public,
as between Bragg and his master the smaller figure was the
amount.
Mr. Puffington had had enough of it, and he now thought if he
could get Mr. Sponge (who he still believed to be a sporting
author on his travels) to immortalise him, he might retire into
privacy, and talk of " when / kept hounds," " when I hunted the
country," " when / was master of hounds I did this, and / did
that," and fuss, and be important, as we often see X-masters of
hounds when they go out with other packs. It was this erroneous
impression with regard to Mr. Sponge tbat took our friend to the
meet of Lord Scamperdale's hounds at Scrambleford Green, when
he gave Mr. Sponge a general invitation to visit him before he
left the country, an invitation that was as acceptable to Mr. Sponge
on his expulsion from Jawleyford Court, as it was agreeable to
Mr. Puffington — by opening a route by which he might escape
from the penalty of hound-keeping, and the persecution of his
huntsman.
The reader will therefore now have the kindness to consider
Mr. Puffington in receipt of Mr. Sponge's note, volunteering a
visit.
With gay and cheerful steps our friend hurried off to the kennel,
to communicate the intelligence to Mr. Bragg of an intended
honour that he inwardly hoped would have the effect of
extinguishing that great sporting luminary.
Arriving at the kennel, he learned from the old feeder, Jack
Horsehide, who, as usual, was sluicing the flags with water,
though the weather was wet, that Mr. Bragg was in the house (a
house that had been the steward's in the days of the former
owner of Hanby House). Thither Mr. Puffington proceeded ; and
the front door being open he entered, and made for the little
parlour on the right. Opening the door without knocking, what
should he find but the swell huntsman, Mr. Bragg, full fig, in his
cap, best scarlet and leathers, astride a saddle-stand, sitting for his
portrait !
" 0, dim it ! " exclaimed Bragg, clasping the front of the stand
as if it was a horse, and throwing himself off, an operation that
had the effect of bringing the new saddle on which he was seated
bang on the floor. " 0, sc-e-e-itse me, sir," seeing it was his
master, " I thought it was my servant ; this, sir," continued he,
blushing and looking as foolish as men do when caught getting
their hair curled or sitting for their portraits, — " this, sir, is my
friend, Mr. Puddle, the painter, sir — yes, sir— very talented
young man, sir — asked me to sit for my portrait, sir — is going to
publish a series of portraits of all the best huntsmen in England,
sir."
MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 235
" And masters of hounds," interposed Mr. Buddie, casting a
sheep's eye at Mr. Puffington.
" And masters of hounds, sir," repeated Mr. Bragg ; " yes, sir,
and masters of hounds, sir ; " Mr. Bragg being still somewhat
flurried at the unexpected intrusion.
" Ah, well," interrupted Mr. Puffington, who was still eager
about his mission, " we'll talk about that after. At present I'm
come to tell you," continued he, holding up Mr. Sponge's note,
" that we must brush up a little — going to have a visit of inspec-
tion from the great Mr. Sponge."
" Indeed, sir ! " replied Mr. Bragg, with the slightest possible
touch of his cap, which he still kept on. " Mr. Sponge, sir ! —
indeed, sir — Mr. Sponge, sir — pray who may he be, sir ? "
" Oh — why — hay — hum — haw — he's Mr. Sponge, you know —
been hunting with Lord Scamperdale, you know — great sportsman,
in fact — great authority, you know."
" Indeed — great authority is he — indeed — oh — yes — thinks so
p'raps — sc-e-e-ase me, sir, but des-say, sir, I've forgot more, sir,
than Mr. Sponge ever knew, sir."
" Well, but you musn't tell him so," observed Mr. Puffington,
fearful that Bragg might spoil sport.
" Oh, tell him — no," sneered Bragg, with a jerk of the head ;
" tell him — no ; I'm not exactly such a donkey as that ; on the
contrary, I'll make things pleasant, sir — sugar his milk for him,
sir, in short, sir."
" Sugar his milk ! " exclaimed Mr. Puffington, who was only
a matter-of-fact man ; " sugar his milk ! I dare say he takes
tea."
" Well, then, sugar his tea," replied Bragg, with a smile ;
adding, " Can 'commodate myself, sir, to circumstances, sir," at
the same time taking off his cap and setting a chair for his
master.
" Thank you, but I'm not going to stay," replied Mr.
Puffington ; " I only came up to let you know who you had to
expect, so that you might prepare, you know — have all on the
square, you know — best horses — best hounds — best appearance in
general, you know."
" That I'll attend to," replied Mr. Bragg, with a toss of the
head, — " that Pll attend to," repeated he, with an emphasis on
the Pll, as much as to say, " don't you meddle with what doesn't
concern you."
Mr. Puffington would fain have rebuked him for his imper-
tinence, as indeed he often would fain have rebuked him ; but Mr.
Bragg had so overpowered him with science, and impressed him
with the necessity of keeping him — albeit Mr. Puffington was
sensible that he killed very few foxes — that, having put up with
236
MR. SPONGE'S SPOETING TOUE.
him so long, he thought it would never do to risk a quarrel, which
might lose him the chance of getting rid of him and hounds
altogether ; therefore, Mr. Puffington, instead of saying, " You
conceited humbug, get out of this," or indulging in any obser-
vations that might lead to controversy, said, with a satisfied,
confidential nod of the head —
" I'm sure you will — I'm sure you will," and took his departure,
leaving Mr. Bragg to remount the saddle-stand, and take the
remainder of his sitting.
AN EARLY BREAKKAWT.
ME. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR. 237
CHAPTER XXXV.
MR. PUFFINGTON'S DOMESTIC ARRANGEMENTS.
Perhaps it was fortunate that Mr. Bragg did take the kennel
management upon himself, or there is no saying but what with
that and the house department, coupled with the usual fussyness
of a bachelor, the Sponge visit might have proved too much for
our master. The notice of the intended visit was short ; and there
were invitations to send out, and answers to get, bed-rooms to pre-
pare, and culinary arrangements to make — arrangements that
people in town, with all their tradespeople at their elbows, can
have no idea of the difficulty of effecting in the country. Mr.
Puffington was fully employed.
In addition to the parties mentioned as asked in his note to Lord
Scamperdale, viz., "Washball, Charley Slapp, and Lumpleg, were
Parson Blossomnose, and Mr. Fossick of the Flat Hat Hunt, who
declined — Mr. Crane, of Crane Hall, and Captain Guano, late of
that noble corps the Spotted Horse Marines, and others who
accepted. Mr. Spraggon was a sort of volunteer, at all events an
undesired guest, unless his lordship accompanied him. It so
happened that the least wanted guest was the first to arrive on the
all important day.
Lord Scamperdale, knowing our friend Jack was not over
affluent, had no idea of spoiling him by too much luxury, and as
the railway would serve a certain distance in the line of Hanby
House, he despatched Jack to the Over-shoes-over-boots station
with the dog-cart, and told him he would be sure to find a 'bus, or
to get some sort of conveyance at the Squandercash station to
take him up to Puffington's ; at all events, his lordship added to
himself, " If he doesn't, it'll do him no harm to walk, and he can
easily get a boy to carry his bag."
The latter was the case ; for though the station-master assured
Jack, on his arrival at Squandercash, that there was a 'bus, or a
mail gig, or a something to every other train, there was nothing
in connection with the one that brought him, nor would he under-
take to leave his carpet bag at Hanby House before breakfast-
time the next morning.
Jack was highly enraged, and proceeded to squint his eye inside
out, and abuse all railways, and chairmen, and directors, and
secretaries, and clerks, and porters, vowing that railways were the
greatest nuisances under the sun — that they were a perfect impedi-
ment instead of a facility to travelling — and declared that formerly
238 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
a gentleman had nothing to do but order his four horses, and have
them turned out at every stage as he came up, instead of being
stopped in the ridicklous manner he then was ; and he strutted
and stamped about the station as if he would put a stop to the
whole line.
His vehemence and big talk operated favourably on the cockney
station-master, who, thinking he must be a duke, or some great
man, began to consider how to get him forwarded. It being only
a thinly-populated district — though there was a station equal to
any mercantile emergency, indeed to the requirements of the
whole county — he ran the resources of the immediate neighbour-
hood through his mind, and at length was obliged to admit —
humbly and respectfully — that he really was afraid Martha
Muggins's donkey was the only available article.
Jack fumed and bounced at the very mention of such a thing,
vowing that it was a downright insult to propose it ; and he was
so bumptious that the station-master, who had nothing to gain by
the transaction, sought the privacy of the electric telegraph office,
and left him to vent the balance of his wrath upon the porters.
Of course they could do nothing more than the king of their
little colony had" suggested ; and finding there was no help for it,
Mr. Spraggon at last submitted to the humiliation, and set off to
follow young Muggins with his bag on the donkey, in his best top-
boots, worn under his trousers — an unpleasant operation to any
one, but especially to a man like Jack, who preferred wearing his
tops out against the flaps' of his friends' saddles, rather than his
soles by walking upon them. However, necessity said yes ; and
cocking his flat hat jauntily on his head, he stuck a cheroot in his
mouth, and went smoking and swaggering on, looking — or rather
squinting — bumptiously at every body he met, as much as to
say, " Don't suppose I'm walking from necessity ! I've plenty of
tin." . . _
The third cheroot brought Jack and his suite within sight
of Hanby House.
Mr. Puffington had about got through all the fuss of his
preparations, arranged the billets of the guests, and of those
scarcely less important personages — their servants, allotted the
stables, and rehearsed the wines, when a chance glance through
the gaily-furnished drawing-room window discovered Jack trudging
up the trimly-kept avenue.
"Here's that nasty Spraggon," exclaimed he, eyeing Jack
dragging his legs along ; adding, '• I'll be bound to say he'll
never think of wiping his filthy feet if I don't go to meet him."
So saying, Puffington rushed to the entrance, and crowning
himself with a white wide-awake, advanced cheerily to do so.
Jack, who was more used to "cold shoulder" than cordial
MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 239
receptions, squinted and stared with surprise at the unwonted
warmth, so different to their last interview, when Jack was fresh
out of his clay-hole in the Brick Fields ; but not being easily put
out of his way, he just took Puff as Puff took him. They talked
of Scamperdale, and they talked of Frostyface, and the number of
foxes he had killed, the price of corn, and the difference its price
made in the keep of hounds and horses. Altogether they were
very " thick."
" And how's our friend Sponge ? " asked Puffington, as the
conversation at length began to flag.
" Oh, he's nicely," replied Jack ; adding, " hasn't he come
yet ? "
" Not that I've seen," answered Puffington ; adding. " I thought,
perhaps, you might come together."
" No," grunted Jack ; " he comes from Jawleyford's, you know ;
I'm from Woodmansterne."
" "We'll go and see if he's come," observed Puffington, open-
ing a door in the garden-wall, into which he had manoeuvred Jack,
communicating with the court-yard of the stable.
" Here are his horses," observed Puffington, as Mr. Leather
rode through the great gates on the opposite side, with the renowned
hunters in full inarching order.
"Monstrous fine animals they arc," said Jack, squinting
intently at them.
" They are that," replied Puffington.
" Mr. Sponge seems a very pleasant, gentlemanly man," observed
Mr. Puffington.
" Oh, he is," replied Jack.
" Can you tell me — can you inform me — that's to say, can yon
give me any idea," hesitated Puffington, " what is the usual
practice — the usual course — the usual understanding as to the
treatment of those sort of gentlemen ? "
" Oh, the best of everything's good enough for them," replied
Jack, adding, " just as it is with me."
" Ah, I don't mean in the way of eating and drinking, but in
the way of encouragement — in the way of a present, you know ? "
adding — " What did my lord do ? " seeing Jack was slow at
comprehension.
" Oh, my lord bad-worded him well," replied Jack ; adding
" he didn't get much encouragement from him."
" Ah, that's the worst of my lord," observed Puffington ; " he's
rather coarse — rather too indifferent to public opinion. In a case
of this sort, you know, that doesn't happen every day, or, perhaps,
more than once in a man's life, it's just as well to be favourably
spoken of as not, you know ; " adding, as he looked intently at
Jack — " Do you understand me ? "
240 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
Jack, who was tolerably quick at a chance, now began to see
how things were, and to fathom Mr. Puffington's mistake. His
ready imagination immediately saw there might be something made
•of it, so he prepared to keep up the delusion.
" Wh-o-o-y ! " said he, straddling out his legs, clasping his hands
together, and squinting steadily through his spectacles, to try and
see, by Puffington's countenance, how much he would stand.
■" W-h-o-o-y ! " repeated he, " I shouldn't think — though, mind,
it's mere conjectur' on my part — that you couldn't offer him less
than — twenty or five-and-twenty punds ; or, say, from that to
thirty," continued Jack, seeing that Puff's countenance remained
complacent under the rise.
" And that you think would be sufficient ? " asked Puff ; add-
ing— " If one does a thing at all, you know, it's as well to do it
handsomely."
" True," replied Jack, sticking out his great thick lips, " true.
I'm a great advocate for doing things handsomely. Many a row I
have with my lord for thanking fellows, and saying he'll remember
them, instead of giving them sixpence or a shilling ; but really I
should say, if you were to give him forty or fifty pund — say a fifty-
pund note, he'd be "
The rest of the sentence was lost by the appearance of Mr.
Sponge, cantering up the avenue on the conspicuous piebald. Mr.
Puffington and Mr. Spraggon greeted him as he alighted at the
•door.
Sponge was quickly followed by Tom Washball ; then came
Charley Slapp and Lumpleg, and Captain Guano came in a gig.
Mutual bows and bobs and shakes of the hand being exchanged,
.imiid offers of " anything before dinner " from the host, the guests
were at length shown to their respective apartments, from which
in due time they emerged, looking like so many bridegrooms.
First came the worthy master of the hounds himself, in his
scarlet dress-coat, lined with white satin ; Tom Washball, and
Charley Slapp also sported Puff's uniform ; while Captain Guano,
who was proud of his leg, sported the uniform of the Muffington
Hunt — a pea-green coat lined with yellow, and a yellow collar,
white shorts with gold garters, and black silk stockings.
Spraggon had been obliged to put up with Lord Scamperdale's
second best coat, his lordship having taken the best one himself ;
but it was passable enough by candle light, and the seediness of the
blue cloth was relieved by a velvet collar and a new set of the Flat
Hat Hunt buttons. Mr. Sponge wore a plain scarlet with a crim-
son velvet collar, and a bright fox on the frosted ground of a gilt
button, with tights as before ; and when Mr. Crane arrived he
was found to be attired in a dress composed partly of Mr. Puffing-
ton's and partly of the Muggeridge Hunt uniform — the red coat
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 241
of the former surmounting the white shorts and black stockings
of the other. Altogether, however, they were uncommonly smart,
and it is to be hoped that they appreciated each other.
The dinner was sumptuous. Puff, of course, was in the chair ;
and Captain Guano coming last into the room, and being very fond
of office, was vice. When men run to the " noble science " of
gastronomy, they generally outstrip the ladies in the art of dinner-
giving, for they admit of no makeweight, or merely ornamental
dishes, but concentrate the cook's energies on sterling and ap-
proved dishes. Everything men set on is meant to be eaten. Above
all, men are not too fine to have the plate-warmer in the room, the
deficiency of hot plates proving fatal to many a fine feast. It was
evident that Puff prided himself on his table. His linen was the
finest and whitest, his glass the most elegant and transparent, his
plate the brightest, and his wines the most costly and recherche.
Like many people, however, who are not much in the habit of
dinner-giving, he was anxious and fussy, too intent upon making
people comfortable to allow of their being so, and too anxious to
get victuals and drink down their throats to allow of their enjoying
either.
Ee not only produced a tremendous assortment of wines — Hock,
Sautcrne, Champagne, Barsack, Burgundy, but descended into
-endless varieties of sherries and Madeiras. These he pressed upon
people, always insisting that the last sample was the best.
In these hospitable exertions Puffington was ably assisted by
Captain Guano, who, being fond of wine, came in for a good
quantity ; first of all by asking everyone to take wine with him,
and then in return everyone asking him to do the same with them.
The present absurd non-asking system was not then in vogue.
The great captain, noisy and talkative at all times, began to be
boisterous almost before the cloth was drawn.
Puffington was equally promiscuous with his after-dinner wines.
He had all sorts of clarets, and " curious old ports." The party
did not seem to have any objection to spoil their digestions for
the next day, and took whatever he produced with great alacrity.
Lengthened were the candle examinations, solemn the sips, and
sounding the smacks that preceded the delivery of their Campbell-
like judgments.
The conversation, which at first was altogether upon wine,
gradually diverged upon sporting, and they presently brewed up a
very considerable cry. Foremost among the noisy ones was Captain
Guano. He seemed inclined to take the shine out of everybody.
" Oh ! if they could but find a good fox that would give them a
run of ten miles — say, ten miles — just ten miles would satisfy him
— say, from Barnesley Wold to Chingforde Wood, or from Carleburg-
Clump to Wetherden Head. He was going to ride his famous
242
MR. SPONGE'S SPOBTING TOUR.
horse Jack-a-Dandy — the finest horse that ever was foaled ! No
day too long for him — no pace too great for him — no fence too
stiff for him — no brook too broad for him."
Tom "Washball, too, talked as if wearing a red coat was not the
only purpose for which he hunted ; and altogether they seemed to
be an amazing, sporting, hard-riding set.
"When at length they rose to go to bed, it struck each man as he
followed his neighbour upstairs that the one before him walked
very crookedly.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
A DAY WITH PUFFINGTON'S HOUNDS.
A GOOD RUN.
Day dawned cheerfully. If there was rather more sun than the
strict rules of Beckford prescribe, still sunshine is not a thing to
quarrel with under any circumstances — certainly not for a gentle-
man to quarrel with who wants his place seen to advantage on the
occasion of a meet of hounds. Everything at Hanby House was
in apple-pie order. All the stray leaves that the capricious wintry
winds still kept raising from unknown quarters, and whisking,
MB. SPONGE'S SFORTING TOUR. 243
about the trim lawns, were hunted and caught, while a heavy roller
passed over the Kensington gravel, pressing out the hoof and
wheelmarks of the previous day. The servants were up betimes,
preparing the house for those that were in it, and a dejeuner a la
fourcheite for chance customers, from without.
They were equally busy at the stable. Although Mr. Bragg did
profess such indifference for Mr. Sponge's opinion, he nevertheless
thought it might perhaps be as well to be condescending to the
stranger. Accordingly, he ordered his whips to be on the alert, to
tie their ties and put on their boots as they ought to be, and to
hoist their caps becomingly on the appearance of our friend.
Bragg, like a good many huntsmen, had a sort of tariff of polite-
ness, that he indicated by the manner in which he saluted the
field. To a lord, he made a sweep of his cap like the dome of St.
Paul's ; a baronet came in for about half as much ; a knight, to a
quarter. Bragg had also a sort of City or monetary tariff of
politeness— a tariff that was oftener called in requisition than the
" Debrett " one, in Mr. Puffington's country. To a good " tip,"
he vouchsafed as much cap as he gave to a lord ; to a middling
" tip " he gave a sort of move that might either pass for a touch
of the cap or a more comfortable adjustment of it to his head ; a
very small " tip " had a forefinger to the peak ; while he who gave
nothing at all got a good stare or a Good morning ! or something
of that sort. A man watching the arrival of the field could see
who gave the fives, who the fours, who the threes, who the twos,
who the ones, and who were the great O's.
But to our day with Mr. Puffington's hounds.
Our over-night friends were not quite so brisk in the morning
as the servants and parties outside. Puffington's " mixture " told
upon a good many of them. Washball had a headache, so had
Lumpleg ; Crane was seedy ; and Captain Guano, sea-green.
Soda-water was in great request.
There was a splendid breakfast, the table and sideboard looking
as if Fortnum and Mason or Morel had opened a branch
establishment at Hanby House. Though the staying guests could
not do much for the good things set out, they were not wasted, for
the place was fairly taken by storm shortly before the advertised
hour of meeting ; and what at one time looked like a most
extravagant supply, at another seemed likely to prove a deficiency.
Each man helped himself to whatever he fancied, without waiting
for the ceremony of an invitation, in the usual style of fox-hunting
hospitality.
A few minutes before eleven, a "#0w%B,antaway," accompanied
by a slight crack of a whip, drew the seedy and satisfied parties to
the auriol window, to see Mr. Bragg pass along with his hounds.
They were just gliding noiselessly over the green sward, Mr. Bragg
ii 2
244 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
rising in his stirrups, as spruce as a game-cock, with his thorough-
bred bay gambolling and pawing with delight at the frolic of the
hounds, some clustering around him, others shooting forward a
little, as if to show how obediently they would return at his whistle.
Mr. Bragg was known as the whistling huntsman, and was a great
man for telegraphing and signalising with his arms, boasting that
he could make hounds so handy that they could do everything,
except pay the turnpike-gates. At his appearance the men all
began to shuffle to the passage and entrance-hall, to look for their
hats and whips ; and presently there was a great outpouring of red
coats upon the lawn, all straddling and waddling of course. Then
Mr. Bragg, seeing an audience, with a slight whistle and waive of
his right arm, wheeled his forces round, and trotted gaily towards
where our guests had grouped themselves, within the light iron
railing that separated the smooth slope from the field. As he
reined in his horse, he gave his cap an aerial sweep, taking off
perpendicularly, and finishing at his horse's ears — an example that
was immediately followed by the whips, and also by Mr. Bragg's
second horseman, Tom Stofc.
" Good morning, Mister Bragg ! — Good morning, Mister Bragg !
— Good morning, Mister Bragg !" burst from the assembled specta-
tors : for Mr. Bragg was one of those people that one occasionally
meets whom everybody " Misters." Mister Bragg, rising in his stir-
rups with a gracious smile, passed a very polite bow along the line.
" Here's a fine morning, Mr. Bragg," observed Tom Washball,
who thought it knowing to talk to servants.
" Yas, sir," replied Bragg, " yas," with a slight inclination to
cap ; " r-a-y-ihev more san, p'raps, than desirable," continued he,
raising his face towards the heavens ; " but still by no means a
bad day, sir— no, sir — by no means a bad day, sir."
" Hounds looking well," observed Charley Slapp between the
whiffs of a cigar.
" Yas, sir," said Bragg — " yas," looking around them with a
self-satisfied smile; adding, "so they ought, sir— so they ought; if
/can't bring a pack out as they should be, don't know who can."
" Why, here's our old Rummager, I declare ! " exclaimed
Spraggon, who, having vaulted the iron hurdles, was now among
the pack. " Why, here's our old Rummager, I declare ! " repeated
he, laying his whip on the head of a solemn-looking black and
white hound, somewhat down in the toes, and looking as if he was
about done.
" Sc-e-e-use me, sir," replied Bragg, leaning over his horse's
shoulder, and whispering into Jack's ear ; " sc-e-e-use me, sir, but
drop that, sir, if you please, sir."
" Drop what? " asked Jack, squinting through his great tortoise-
shell-rimmed spectacles up into Bragg's face.
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 245
" 'Bout knowing of that 'ound, sir," whispered Bragg ; " the
fact is, sir, — we call him Merryman, sir ; master don't know I got
him from you, sir."
" O-o-o," replied Jack, squinting, if possible, more frightfully
than before.
"Ah, that's the hound I offered to Scamperdale," observed
Puffington, seeing the movement, and coming up to where Jack
stood ; " that's the hound I offered to Scamperdale," repeated he,
taking the old dog's head between his hauds. " There's no better
hound in the world than this," continued he, patting and smooth-
ing him ; " and no better bred hound either," added he, rubbing
the dog's sides with his whip.
" How is he bred ?" asked Jack, who knew the hound's pedigree
better than he did his own.
" Why, I got him from Reynard, — no, I mean from Downey-
bird — the Duke, you know ; but he was bred by Fitzwilliam — by
his Singwell out of Darling, Singwell was by the Rutland Rally-
wood out of Tavistock Rhapsody ; but to make a long story short,
he's lineally descended from the Beaufort Justice."
"Indeed!" exclaimed Jack, hardly able to contain himself;
" that's undeniable blood."
" Well, I'm glad to hear you say so ; " replied Puffington. "I'm
glad to hear you say so, for you understand, these things — no man
better ; and I confess I've a warm side to that Beaufort Justice
blood."
" Don't wonder at it," replied Jack, laughing his waistcoat
strings off.
" The great Mr. Warde," continued Mr. Puffington, " who was
justly partial to his own sort, had never any objection to breeding
from the Beaufort Justice."
" No, nor nobody else that knew what he was about," replied
Jack, turning away to conceal his laughter.
" We should be moving, I think, sir," observed Bragg, anxious
to put an end to the conversation ; " we should be moving, I think,
sir," repeated he, with a rap of his forefinger against his cap peak.
" It's past eleven," added he, looking at his gold watch, and
shutting it against his cheek.
" What do you draw first ? " asked Jack.
"Draw — draw — draw," replied Puffington. "Oh, we'll draw
Rabbitborough Gorse — that's a new cover I've enclosed on my
pro-o-rperty."
" Sc-e-e-use me, sir," replied Bragg, with a smile, and another
rap of the cap : " sc-e-e-use me, sir, but I'm going to Hollyburn
Hanger first."
" Ah, well, Hollyburn Hanger," replied Puffington, complacently ;
"either will do very well."
24G MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
If Puff had proposed Hollyburn Hanger, Bragg would have said
Rabbi thorough Gorse.
The move of the hounds caused a rush of gentlemen to their
horses, and there was the usual scrambliDgs up, and fidgetings, and
f unkings, and ivho-o-h&jings and drawing of girths, and taking up
of curbs, and lengthening and shortening of stirrups.
Captain Guano couldn't get his stirrups to his liking anyhow.
" 'Ord hang these leathers," roared he, clutching up a stirrup-iron ;
" who the devil would ever have sent one out a huntin' with a pair
of new stirrup-leathers ? "
" Hang you and the stirrup-leathers," growled the groom, as his
master rode away ; " you're always wantin' sumfin to find fault
with. I'm blowed if it arn't a disgrace to an oss to carry such a
man," added he, eyeing the chestnut fidgeting and wincing as the
captain worked away at the stirrups.
Mr. Bragg trotted briskly on with the hounds, preceded by Joe
Banks the first whip, and having Jack Swipes the second, and
Tom Stot, riding together behind him, to keep off the crowd.
Thus the cavalcade swept down the avenue, crossed the Swilling-
ford turnpike, and took through a well-kept field road, which
speedily brought them to the cover — rough, broomy, brushwood-
covered banks, of about three acres in extent, lying on either side
of the little Hollyburn Brook, one of the tiny streams that in
angry times helped to swell the Swill into a river.
" Dim all these foot people ! " exclaimed Mr. Bragg, in well-
feigned disgust, as he came in view, and found all the Swillingford
snobs, all the tinkers, and tailors, and cobblers, and poachers, and
sheep-stealers, all the scowling, rottcn-fustiancd, baggy-pocketed
scamps of the country ranged round the cover, some with dogs,
some with guns, some with snares, and all with sticks or staffs.
""Well, I'm dimmed if ever I seed sich a " The rest of the
speech being lost amidst the exclamations of — " A ! the hunds !
the hunds ! hoop ! tally-o the hunds ! " and a general rush of the
ruffians to meet them.
Captain Guano, who had now come up, joined in the denuncia-
tion, inwardly congratulating himself on the probability that the
first cover, at least, would be drawn blank.
Tom Washball, who was riding a very troublesome tail-foremost
grey, also censured the proceeding.
And Mr. Puffington, still an " ama«zin' instance of a pop'lar
man," exclaimed, as he rode among them, " Ah ! my good fellows,
I'd rather you'd come up and had some ale than disturbed the
cover ; " a hint that the wily ones immediately took, rushing up to
the house, and availing themselves of the absence of the butler, who
had followed the hounds, to take a couple of dozen of his best
fiddle-handled forks while the footman was drawinjr them the ale.
MP. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 247
The whips being duly signalled by Bragg to their points —
Brick to the north corner, Swipes to the south — and the field
being at length drawn up to his liking, Mr. Bragg looked at Mr.
Puffington for his signal (the only piece of interference he allowed
him), at a nod Mr. Bragg gave a waive of his cap, and the pack
dashed into cover with a cry —
" Yo-o-iclcs — wind him ! Yo-o-iclcs — pash him up ! " cheered
Bragg, standing erect in his stirrups, eyeing the hounds spreading
and sniffing about, now this way, now that — now pushing through
a thicket, now threading and smelling along a meuse. " Yo-o-icTcs
— wind him ! Yo-o-iclcs — pash him up ! " repeated he, cracking
his whip, and moving slowly on. He then varied the entertain-
ment by whistling, in a sharp, shrill key, something like the chirp
of a sparrow-hawk.
Thus the hounds rummaged and scrimmaged for some minutes.
" No fox here," observed Captain Guano, bringing his horse
alongside of Mr. Bragg's.
"Not so sure o' that" replied Mr. Bragg, with a sneer, for he
had a great contempt for the captain. "Not so sure o' that,"
replied he, eyeing Thunderer and Galloper feathering up the
brook.
" Hang these stirrups ! " exclaimed the captain, again attempt-
ing to adjust them ; adding, " I declare I have no seat whatever
in this saddle."
" Nor in any other," muttered Bragg. " Yo-icks, Galloper !
Yo-icks, Thunderer ! Ge-e-ntly, Warrior ! " continued he, crack-
ing his whip, as Warrior pounced at a bunny.
The hounds were evidently on a scent, hardly strong enough to
own, but sufficiently indicated by their feathering, and the rush of
their comrades to the spot.
" A fox for a thousand ! " exclaimed Mr. Bragg, eyeing them,
and looking at his watch.
" Oh, d — mn me ! I've got one stirrup longer than another
now ! " roared Captain Guano, trying the fresh adjustment.
" I've got one stirrup longer than another ! " added he, in a
terrible pucker.
A low snatch of a whimper now proceeded from Galloper, and
Bragg cheered him to the echo. In another second a great bang-
ing brown fox burst from among the broom, and dashed down,
the little dean. What noises, what exclamations rent the air !
" Talliho ! talliho ! talliho ! " screamed a host of voices, in every
variety of intonation, from the half-frantic yell of a party seeing
him, down to the shout of a mere partaker of the epidemic.
Shouting is very contagious. The horsemen gathered up their
reins, pressed down their hats, and threw away their cigar-ends.
" 'Ord hang it ! " roared Captain Guano, still fumbling at the
248 MB. SPONGE'S SPOBTING TOUB.
leathers, "I shall never be able to ride with stirrups in this
state."
" Hang your stirrups ! " exclaimed Charley Slapp, shooting past
him, adding, " It was your saddle last time."
Bragg's queer tootle of his horn, for he was full of strange
blows, now sounded at the low end of the cover ; and, having a
pet line of gaps and other conveniences that he knew how to turn
to on the minute, he soon shot so far ahead as to give him the
appearance (to the slow 'uns) of having flown. Brick and Swipes
quickly had all the hounds after him, and Stot, dropping his
elbows, made for the road, to ride the second horse gently on the
line. The field, as usual, divided into two parts, the soft riders
and the hard ones — the soft riders going by the fields, the hard
riders by the road. Messrs. Spraggon, Sponge, Slapp, Quilter,
Rasper, Crasher, Smasher, and some half-dozen more, bustled after
Bragg ; while the worthy master Mr. Puffington, Lumpleg,
Washball, Crane, Guano, Shirker, and very many others, came
pounding along the lane. There was a good scent, and the
hounds shot across the Fleecyhaughwater Meadows, over the hill,
to the village of Berrington Roothings, where, the fox having-
been chased by a cur, the hounds were brought to a check by some
very bad scenting-ground, on the common, a little to the left of
the village, at the end of a quarter of an hour or so. The road
having been handy, the hard riders were there almost as soon as
the soft ones ; and there being no impediments on the common,
they all pushed boldly on among the now stooping hounds.
" Hold hard, gentlemen ! " exclaimed Mr. Bragg, rising in his
stirrups, and telegraphing with his right arm. " Hold hard ! —
p-ay do ! " added he, with little better success. " Dim, it, gen'le-
men, hold hard ! " added he, as they still pressed upon the pack.
" Have a little regard for a huntsman's raputation," continued he.
" Remember that it rises and falls with the sport he shows " —
exhortations that seemed to be pretty well lost upon the field, who
began comparing notes as to their respective achievements,
enlarging the leaps and magnifying the distance into double what
they had been. Puffington and some of the fat ones sat gasping
and mopping their brows.
Seeing there was not much chance of the hounds hitting off
the scent by themselves, Mr. Bragg began telegraphing with his
arm to the whippers-in, much in the manner of the captain of a
Thames steamer to the lad at the engine, and forthwith they drove
the pack on for our swell huntsman to make his cast. As good
luck would have it, Bragg crossed the line of the fox before he
had got half through his circle, and away the hounds dashed, at a
pace and with a cry that looked very like killing. Mr. Bragg was
in ecstasies, and rode in a manner very contrary to his wont. All
MB. SPONGE'S SPOBTING TOTJB. 249
again was life, energy, and action ; and even some who hoped
there was an end of the thing, and that they might go home and
say, as usual, " that they had had a very good run, but not
killed," were induced to proceed.
Away they all went as before.
At the end of eighteen minutes more the hounds ran into their
fox in the little green valley below Mountnessing Wood, and Mr.
Bragg had him stretched on the green with the pack baying about
him, and the horses of the field-riders getting led about by the
country people, while the riders stood glorying in the splendour of
the thing. All had a direct interest in making it out as good as
possible, and Mr. Bragg was quite ready to appropriate as much
praise as ever they liked to give.
" 'Ord dim him," said he, turning up the fox's grim head with
his foot, " but Mr. Bragg's an awkward customer for gen'lemen of
your description."
"You hunted him well!" exclaimed Charley Slapp, who was
trumpeter general of the establishment.
" Oh, sir," replied Bragg, with a smirk and a condescending
bow, " if Richard Bragg can't kill foxes, I don't know who can."
Just then " Puffington and Co." hove in sight up the valley,
their faces beaming with delight as the tableau before them told
the tale. They hastened to the spot.
" How many brace is that ? " asked Puffington, with the most
matter-of-course air, as he trotted up, and reined in his horse out-
side the circle.
" Seventeen brace, your grace, I mean to say my lord, that'3 to
say sur" replied Bragg, with a strong emphasis on the sur, as if
to say, " I'm not used to you snobs of Commoners."
"Seventeen brace ! " sneered Jack Spraggon to Sponge ; adding,
in a whisper, " More like seven foxes."
"And how many run to ground ? " asked Puffington, alighting.
" Four brace," replied Bragg, stooping to cut off the brush.
We were wrong in saying that Bragg only allowed Puff the
privilege of nodding his head to say when he might throw oil'.
He let him lead the "lie gallop " in the kill department.
Mr. Puffington then presented Mr. Sponge with the brush, and
the usual solemnities being observed, the sherry flasks were pro-
duced and drained, the biscuits munched, and, amidst the smoke
of cigars, the ring broke up in great good will.
250
MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TO VII.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
A RUNNING WRITER.
WETTING A HUN.
HE first fumes
of excitement
over, after a
run with a
kill, the field
begin to take
things more
coolly and
veraciously,
and ere long
some of them
begin to pick
holes in the
affair. The
men of the
hunt run it
up, while those of the next hunt run it down. Added to this there
are generally some cavilling, captious fellows in every field, who
extol a run to the master's face, and abuse it behind his back. So
it was on the present occasion. The men of the hunt — Charley
Slapp, Lumpleg, Guano, Crane, Washball, and others — lauded and
magnified it into something magnificent ; while Fossick, Fyle,
Wake, Blossomnose, and others of the "flat-hat hunt," pronounced
it a niceish thing— a pretty burst ; and Mr. Vosper, who had
hunted for five-and-twenty seasons without ever suhscribing one
farthing to hounds, always declaring that each season was " his
last," or that he was going to confine himself entirely to some
other pack, said it was nothing to make a row about, that he had
seen fifty better things with the Tinglebury harriers, and never a
word said.
" Well," said Sponge to Spraggon, between the whiffs of a cigar,
as they rode together ; " it wasn't so bad, was it ? "
" Bad ! — no," squinted Jack, " devilish good — for Puff, at
least," adding, " I question he's had a better this season."
" Well, avc are in luck," observed Tom Washball, riding up and
joining them ; " we are in luck to have a satisfactory thing with
you great connoisseurs out."
" A pretty thing enough," replied Jack, " pretty thing
enouirh."
MB. SPONGE'S SPOTTING TOUR. 251
" Oh, I don't mean to say it's equal to many we've had this
season," replied Washball ; " nothing like the Boughton Hill day,
nor yet the Hembury Forest one ; but still, considering the meet
and the state of the country "
"Hout ! the country's good enough," growled Jack, who hated
Washball ; adding, " A good fox makes any country good ; " with
Avhich observation he sidled up to Sponge, leaving Washball in
the middle of the road.
" That reminds me," said Jack, soito voce to Sponge, " that the
crittur wants his run puffed, and he thinks you can do it."
" Me ! " exclaimed Sponge, " what's put that in his head ? "
" Why, you see," exclaimed Jack, " the first time you came out
with our hounds at Dundleton Tower, you'll remember — or rather,
the first time we saw you, when your horse ran away with you —
somebody, Fyle, I think it was, said you were a literary cove ; and
Puff, catchin' at the idea, has never been able to get rid of it
since : and the fact is, he'd like to be flattered — he'd be un-
commonly pleased if you were to ' soft saudor ' him handsomely."
"Me /" exclaimed Sponge; "bless your heart, man, I can't
write anything — nothing fit to print, at least."
" Hout, fiddle ! " retorted Spraggon, " you can write as well as
any other man ; see what lots of fellows write, and nobody ever
finds fault."
" But the spellin' bothers one," replied Sponge, with a shake
of his elbow and body, as if the idea was quite out of the
question.
" Hang the spellin'," muttered Jack, " one can always borrow a
dictionary ; or let the man of the paper — the editor, as they call
him — smooth out the spellin'. You say at the end of your letter,
that your hands are cold, or your hand aches with holdin' a pullin'
horse, and you'll thank him to correct any inadvertencies — you
needn't call them errors, you know."
" But where's the use of it ? " exclaimed Sponge ; " it '11 do us
no good, you know, praisin' Puff's pack, or himself, or anything
about him."
" That's just the point," said Jack, " that's just the point. I
can make it answer both our purposes," said he, with a nudge of
the elbow, and an inside-out squint of his eyes.
"Ah, that's another matter," replied our friend; "if we can
turn the thing to account, well and good — I'm your man for a shy."
" We can turn it to account," rejoined Jack ; " we can turn it
to account — at least /can ; but then you must do it. He wouldn't
take it as any compliment from me. It's the stranger that sees
all things in their true lights. D' ye understand ? " asked he,
eagerly.
" 1 twig," replied Sponge.
252 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
" You write the account," continued Jack, " and I'll manage
the rest."
" You must help me," observed Sponge.
" Certainly," replied Jack ; " we'll do it together, and go halves
in the plunder."
" Humph," mused Sponge : " halves," said he to himself. " And
what will you give me for my half ? " asked he.
" Give you ! " exclaimed Jack, brightening up. " Give you !
Let me see," continued he, pretending to consider, — " Puffs rich
— Puff's a liberal fellow — Puff's a conceited beggar — mix it
strong," said Jack, " and I'll give you ten pounds."
" Make it twelve," replied Sponge, after a pause.
If Jack had said twelve, Sponge would have asked fourteen.
" Couldn't," said Jack, with a shake of the head ; " it really
isn't with (worth) the money."
The two then rode on in silence for some little distance.
" I'll tell you what I'll do," said Jack, spurring his horse, and
trotting up the space that the other had now shot ahead. " I'll
split the difference with you ! "
"Well, give me the sov.," said Sponge, holding out his hand for
earnest.
" Why, I havn't a sov. upon me," replied Jack ; " but, honour
bright, I'll do what I say."
" Give me eleven golden sovereigns for my chance," repeated
Sponge, slowly, in order that there might be no mistake.
" Eleven golden sovereigns for your chance," repeated Jack.
" Done ! " replied Sponge.
" Done ! " repeated Jack.
" Let's jog on and do it once while the thing's fresh in our
minds," said Jack, working his horse into a trot.
Sponge did the same ; and the grass-siding of Orlantire Park-
wall favouring their design, they increased the trot to a canter.
They soon passed the park's bounds, and entering upon one of
those rarities — an unenclosed common, angled its limits so as to
escape the side-bar, and turning up Farningham Green lane, came
out upon the Kingsworth and Swillingford turnpike within sight
of Hanby House.
" We'd better pull up and walk the horses gently in, p'raps,"
observed Sponge, reining his in.
" Ah ! I was only wantin' to get home before the rest," observed
Jack, pulling up too.
They then proceeded more leisurely together.
" We'd better get into one of our bed-rooms to do it," observed
Jack, as they passed the lodge.
" Just so," replied Sponge ; adding, " I dare say we shall want
all the quiet we can get."
ME. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 253
" Oh, no ! " said Jack ; " the thing's simple enough — met at
euch a place — found at such another — killed at so and so."
" Well, I hope it will," said Sponge, riding into the stable-yard,
and resigning his steed to the care of his groom.
Jack did the same by Sponge's other horse, which he had been
riding, and in reply to Leather's enquiry (who stood with his right
hand ready, as if to shake hands with him), " how the horse had
carried him ? " replied —
" Cursed ill," and stamped away without giving him anything.
" Ah, you're a gen'leman, you are," muttered Leather, as he led
the horse away.
" Now, come ! " exclaimed Jack, to Sponge, " come ! let's get in
before any of those bothersome fellows come ; " adding, as he dived
into a passage, " I'll show you the back way."
After passing a scullery, a root-house, and a spacious entrance-
hall, upon a table in which stood the perpetual beer-jug and bread-
basket, a green baize door let them into the regions of upper
service, and passing the dashed carpets of the housekeeper's
room and butler's pantry, a red baize door let them into the
far-side of the front entrance. Having deposited their hats and
whips, they bounded up the richly-carpeted staircase to their
rooms.
Hanby House, as we have already said, was splendidly fur-
nished. All the grandeur did not run to the entertaining rooms ;
but each particular apartment, from the state bed-room down to
the smallest bachelor snuggery, was replete with elegance and
comfort.
Like many houses, however, the bed-rooms possessed every
imaginable luxury, except boot-jacks and pens that would write.
In Sponge's room, for instance, there were hip-baths, and foot-
baths, a shower-bath, and hot and cold baths adjoining, and
mirrors innumerable ; an eight-day mantel-clock, by Moline, of
Geneva, that struck the hours, half -hours, and quarters : cut-glass
toilet candlesticks, with silver sconces ; an elegant zebra-wood
cabinet ; also a beautiful Devonport of zebra-wood, with a plate-
glass back, containing a pen rug worked on silver ground, an
sbony match box, a blue crystal, containing a sponge pen-wiper, a
beautiful envelope-case, a white-cornelian seal, with " Hanby
House " upon it, wax of all colours, papers of all textures, enve-
lopes without end — every imaginable requirement of correspond-
ence except a pen that would write. There ivere pens, indeed —
there almost always are — but they were miserable apologies of
things ; some were mere crow-quills — sort of cover-hacks of pens,
while others were great, clumsy, heavy-heeled, cart-horse sort of
things, clotted up to the hocks with ink, or split all the way
through — vexatious apologies, that throw a person over just at the
254 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
critical moment, when he has got his sheet prepared and his ideas
all ready to pour upon paper ; then splut — splut — splutter goes
the pen, and away goes the train of thought. Bold is the man
who undertakes to write his letters in his bed-room with country-
house pens. But, to our friends. Jack and Sponge slept next
door to each other ; Sponge, as we have already said, occupy-
ing the state-room, with its canopy-top bedstead, carved and
panelled sides, and elegant chintz curtains lined with pink, and
massive silk-and-bullion tassels ; while Jack occupied the dressing-
room, which was the state bed-room in miniature, only a good deal
more comfortable. The rooms communicated with double doors,
and our friends very soon effected a passnge.
" Have you any 'baccy ? " asked Jack, waddling in in his
slippers, after having sucked off his tops without the aid of a boot-
jack.
" There's some in my jacket-pocket," replied Sponge, nodding
to where it hung in the wardrobe ; " but it won't do to smoke here,
will it ? " asked he.
" Why not ? " inquired Jack.
" Such a fine room," replied Sponge, looking around.
"Oh, fine be hanged ! " replied Jack ; adding, as he made for
the jacket, " no place too fine for smokin' in."
Having helped himself to^one of the best cigars, and lighted it,
Jack composed himself cross-legged in an easy, spring, stuffed
chair, while Sponge fussed about among the writing implements,
watering and stirring up the clotted ink, and denouncing each
pen in succession, as he gave it the initiatory trial in writing the
word " Sponge."
" Curse the pens ! " exclaimed he, throwing the last bright crisp
yellow thing from him in disgust. " There's not one among 'em
that can go !— all reg'larly stumped up."
" Haven't you a penknife ? " asked Jack, taking the cigar out
of his mouth.
"Not I," replied Sponge.
"Take a razor, then," said Jack, who was good at an
expedient.
" I'll take one of yours," said Sponge, going into the dressing-
room for one.
"Hang it, but you're rather too sharp," exclaimed Jack, with a
shake of his head.
" It's more than your razor '11 be when I'm done with it,"
replied Sponge.
Having at length, with the aid of Jack's razor, succeeded in
getting a pen that would write, Mr. Sponge selected a sheet of best
cream-laid satin paper, and taking a cane-bottomed chair placed
himself at the table in an attitude for writing. Dipping the hue
JACK AND MR. SPONGE WRITING AN ARTICLE.
(P. 255.
MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 255
yellow pen in the ink, he looked in Jack's face for an idea. Jack,
who had now got well advanced in his cigar, safc squinting through
his spectacles at our scribe, though apparently looking at the top
of the bed.
" Well," said Sponge, with a look of inquiry.
"Well," replied Jack, in a tone of indifference.
" How shall I begin ? " asked Sponge, twirling the pen between
his fingers, and spluttering the ink over the paper.
" Begin ! " replied Jack, " begin, oh, begin, just as you usually
begin."
" As a letter ? " asked Sponge.
" I 'spose so," replied Jack ; " how would you think ? "
" 0, I don't know," replied Sponge. " Will you try your
hand ? " added he, holding out the pen.
" Why, I'm busy just now, you see," said he, pointing to his
cigar, " and that horse of yours (Jack had ridden the redoubtable
chestnut, Multum in Parvo, who had gone very well in the company
of Hercules) pulled so confoundedly that I've almost lost the use
of my fingers," continued he, working away as if he had got the
cramp in both hands ; " but I'll prompt you," added he, " I'll
prompt you."
" Why don't you begin, then ? " asked Sponge.
" Begin ! " exclaimed Jack, taking the cigar from his lips ;
" begin ! " repeated he, " oh, I'll begin directly — didn't know you
were ready."
Jack then threw himself back in his chair, and sticking out his-
little bandy legs, turned the whites of his eyes up to the ceiling,
as if lost in meditation.
" Begin," said he, after a pause, " begin, ' This splendid pack
had a stunning run.' "
" But we must put what pack first," observed Sponge, writing
the words " Mr. Puffington's hounds " at the top of the paper.
" Well," said he, writing on, " this stunning pack had a splendid
run."
" No, not stunning pack," growled Jack, " splendid pack — ' this
splendid pack had a stunning run.' "
" Stop ! " exclaimed Sponge, writing it down ; " well," said he,
looking up, " I've got it."
" This stunning pack had a splendid run," repeated Jack,
squinting away at the ceiling.
" I thought you said splendid pack," observed Sponge.
" So I did," replied Jack.
" You said stunning just now," rejoined he.
" Ah, that was a slip of the tongue," said Jack. " This splendid
pack had a stunning run," repeated Jack, appealing again to his
cigar for inspiration ; " well then," said he, after a pause, " you
256 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
just go on as usual, you know," continued he, with a flourish cf
his great red hand.
" As usual ! " exclaimed Sponge, " you don't s'pose one's pen
goes of itself."
" Why no," replied Jack, knocking the ashes off his cigar on
to the arabesque-patterned tapestry carpet — " why no, not exactly ;
but these things, you know, are a good deal matter of course ; just
describe what you saw, you know, and butter Puff well, that's the
main point."
" But you forget," replied Sponge, " I don't know the country,
I don't know the people, I don't know anything at all about the
run — I never once looked at the houuds."
" That's nothin'," replied Jack, " there'd be plenty like you in
that respect. However," continued he, gathering himself up in
his chair as if for an effort, " you can say — let me see what you can
say — you can say, ' this splendid pack had a stunning run from
Hollyburn Hanger, the property of its truly popular master, Mr.
Puffing-ton,' or— stop," said Jack, checking himself, " say, ' the
property of its truly popular and sporting master, Mr. Puffington.'
The cover's just as much mine as it's his," observed Jack ; "it
belongs to old Sir Timothy Tensthemain, who's vegetating at
Boulogne-sur-Mer, but Puff says he'll buy it when it comes to the
hammer, so we'll flatter him by considering it his already, just as we
flatter him by calling him a sportsman — sportsman ! " added Jack,
with a sneer. " he's just as much taste for the thing as a cow."
" Well," said Sponge, looking up, " I've got ' truly popular and
sporting master, Mr. Puffington,' " adding, " hadn't we better say
something about the meet and the grand spread here before we
begin with the run ? "
"True," replied Jack, after a long-drawn whiff and another
adjustment of the end of his cigar ; " say that ' a splendid field of
well-appointed sportsmen' — "
" A splendid field of well-appointed sportsmen," wrote Sponge.
" * Among whom we recognised several distinguished strangers
and members of Lord Scamperdale's hunt.' That means you and
I," observed Jack.
" ' Of Lord Scamperdale's hunt — that means you and I ' " — read
Sponge, as he wrote it.
" But you're not to put in that ; you're not to write ' that
means you and I,' my man," observed Jack.
" Oh, I thought that was part of the sentence," replied
Sponge.
" No, no ; " said Jack, " I meant to say that you and I were
the distinguished strangers and members of Lord. Scamperdale's
hunt ; but that's between ourselves you know."
" Good," said Sponge ; " then I'll strike that out," running his
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 257
pen through the words " that means you and I." " Now get on,"
said he, appealing to Jack, adding, " we've a deal to do vet."
" Say," said Jack, " ' after partaking of the well-known profuse
and splendid hospitality of Hanby House, they proceeded at once
to Hollyburn Hanger, where a tine seasoned fox' — though some
said he was a bag one — "
" Did they ? " exclaimed Sponge, adding, " well, I thought he
went away rather queerly."
" Oh, it was only old Bung the brewer, who runs down every run
he doesn't ride."
"Well, never mind," replied Sponge, "we'll make the best of
it, whatever it was ; " writing away as he spoke, and repeating the
words " bag one " as he penned them.
" ' Broke away,' " continued Jack —
" ' In view of the whole field,' " added Sponge.
" Just so," assented Jack.
" ' Every hound scoring to cry, and making the' — the — the —
what d'ye call the thing ? " asked Jack.
" Country," suggested Sponge.
" No," replied Jack, with a shake of the head.
" Hill and dale ? " tried Sponge again.
" Welkin ! " exclaimed Jack, hitting it off himself — " ' makin'
the welkin ring with their melody ! ' makin' the welkin ring with
their melody," repeated he, with exultation.
" Capital ! " observed Sponge, as he wrote it.
" Equal to Littlelegs," * said Jack, squinting his eyes inside out.
" We'll make a grand thing of it," observed Sponge.
" So we will," replied Jack, adding, " if we had but a book
of po'try we'd weave in some lines here. You haven't a book
o' no sort with you that we could prig a little po'try from ? "
asked he.
" No," replied Sponge, thoughtfully. " I'm afraid not ; indeed,
I'm sure not. I've got nothin' but ' Mogg's Cab Fares.' "
" Ah, that won't do," observed Jack, with a shake of the head.
" But stay," said he, " there are some books over yonder," pointing
to the top of an Indian cabinet, and squinting in a totally different
direction. " Let's see what they are," added he, rising, and stumping
away to where they stood. " I Promessi Sposi," read he off the back
of one : " What can that mean ! Ah, it's Latin," said he, opening
the volume. " Contes a ma Fille," read he off the back of another.
" That sounds like racin'," observed he, opening the volume ; " it's
Latin too," saidhe, returningit. " However,never mind, we'll ' sugar
Puffs milk,' as Mr. Bragg would say, without po'try." So saying,
Mr. Spraggon stumped back to his easy chair. " Well, now," said
* The Poetical Recorder of the Doings of the Dublin Garrison clogs, in
Bell's Life.
8
•258 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
he seating himself comfortably in it, " let's see where did we
go first ? ' He broke at the lower end of the cover, and crossing
the brook, made straight for Fleecyhaugh, Water Meadows, over
which,' you may say, ' there's always a ravishing scent.' "
" Have you got that ? " asked Jack, after what he thought a
sufficient lapse of time for writing it.
" ' Ravishing scent,' " repeated Sponge as he wrote the Avords.
" Very good," said Jack, smoking and considering. " ' From
there,' " continued he, " ' he made a bit of a bend, as if inclining
for the plantations at Winstead, but, changing his mind, he
faced the rising ground, and crossing over nearly the highest part
of Shillington Hill, made direct for the little village of Berrington
Eoothings below. ' "
" Stop ! " exclaimed Sponge, " I haven't got half that ; I've only
got to ' the plantations at Winstead.' " Sponge made play with
his pen, and presently held it up in token of being done.
" Well," pondered Jack, " there was a chr^k there. Say," con-
tinued he, addressing himself to Sponge, " ' Here the hounds came
to a check.' "
" Here the hounds came to a check," wrote Sponge. " Shall we
say anything about distance ? " asked he.
" P'raps we may as well," replied Jack. " We shall have to
stretch it though a bit."
"Let's see," continued he ; from the cover to Berrington Rooth-
ings over by Shillington Hill and Fleecyhaugh Water Meadows will
be — say, two miles and a half or three miles at the most, — call it
four, well four miles, — say four miles in twelve minutes, twenty miles
an hour, — too quick, — four miles in fifteen minutes, sixteen miles
an hour ; no — I think p'raps it'll be safer to lump the distance at
the end, and put in a place or two that nobody knows the name of,
for the convenience of those who were not out."
"But those who were out will blab, won't they?" asked Sponge.
" Only to each other," replied Jack. " They'll all stand up for
the truth of it as against strangers. You need never be afraid of
oyer-eggin' the puddin' for those that were out."
" Well, then," observed Sponge, looking at his paper to report
progress, " we've got the hounds to a check. ' Here the hounds
came to a check,' " read he.
"Ah ! now, then," said Jack, in a tone of disgust, "we must
say summut handsome of Bragg ; and of all conceited animals
under the sun, he certainly is the most conceited. I never saw
such a man ! How that unfortunate, infatuated master of his keeps
him, I can't for the life of me imagine. Master ! faith, Bragg's
the master,'1'' continued Jack, who now began to foam at the
mouth. " He laughs at old Puff to his face ; yet it's wonderful
the influence Bragg has over him. I really believe he has talked
MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 250
Puff into believing that there's not such another huntsman under
the sun, and really he's as great a mull' as ever walked. He can
just dress the character, and that's all." So saying, Jack wiped
his mouth on the sleeve of his red coat preparatory to displaying
Mr. Bragg upon paper.
"Well, now we are at fault," said Jack, motioning Sponge to
resume ; " we are at fault ; now say, ' but Mr. Bragg who had
ridden gallantly on his favourite bay, as fine an animal as ever
went, though somewhat past mark of mouth ' He is a good
horse, at least uws," observed Jack ; adding, " I sold Puff him,
he was one of old Sugarlip's," meaning Lord Scamperdale's.
" Sure to be a good'un then," replied Sponge, with a wink ;
adding, " I wonder if he'd like to buy any more."
" We'll talk about that after," replied Jack, " ac present let us
get on with our run."
" Well," said Sponge, " I've got it : ' Mr. Bragg who had ridden
gallantly on his favourite bay, as fine an animal as ever went,
though somewhat past mark of mouth ' "
"'Was well up with his hounds,'" continued Jack, "'and
with a gently Bantipole ! and a single wave of his arm, proceeded
to make one of those scientific casts for which this eminent hunts-
man is so justly celebrated.' Justly celebrated ! " repeated Jack,
spitting on the carpet with a hawk of disgust ; " the conceited self-
sufficient bantam-cock never made a cast worth a copper, or rode a
yard but when he thought somebody was looking at him."
"I've got it," said Sponge, who had plied" his pen to good
purpose.
"Justly celebrated," repeated Jack, witli a snort. " Well, then,
■say, ' Hitting off the scent like a workman,' — big H, you know, for
.a fresh sentence, — 'they went away again at score, and passing by
Moorlinch farm-buildings, and threading the strip of plantation by
Bcxley Burn, he crossed Silverbury Green, leaving Longford Hutch
to the right, and passing straight on by the gibbet at Harpen.'
Those are all bits of places," observed Jack, " that none but the
countryfolks know ; indeed, I shouldn't have known them but for
shootin' over them when old Bloss lived at the Green. Well, now
have you got all that ? " asked he.
" ' Gibbet at Harpen,' " read Sponge, as he wrote it.
" ' Here, then, the gallant pack, breaking from scent to view,' "
continued Jack, speaking slowly, " ' run into their fox in the open
close upon Mountnessing Wood, evidently his point from the first,
and into which a few more strides would have carried him. It was
as fine a run as ever was seen, and the hunting of the hounds was
the admiration of all who saw it. The distance couldn't have been
less than' — than what shall we say ? " asked Jack.
" Ten, twelve miles, as the crow flies," suggested Sponge.
2G0 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
" No," said Jack, " that would be too much. Say ten ; " adding,
u that will be four more than it was."
"Never mind," said Sponge, as he wrote it ; "folks like good
measure with runs as well as ribbons."
" Now we must butter Old Puff," observed Spraggon.
" "What can we say for him 1 " asked Sponge ; " that he never
went off the road ? "
"No, by Jove ! " said Jack ; "you'll spoil all if you do that :
better leave it alone altogether than do that. Say, 'the justly
popular owner of this most celebrated pack, though riding good
fourteen stone' (he rides far more," observed Jack; "at least
sixteen ; but it'll please him to make out that he can ride four-
teen), ' led the welters, on his famous chestnut horse, Tappey
Lappey.' "
" What shall we say about the rest ? " asked Sponge ; " Luinpleg,
Slapp, Guano, and all those ? "
" Oh, say nothin'," replied Jack ; " we've nothin' to do with
nobody but Puff ; and we couldn't mention them without bringin'
in our Flat Hat men too, Blossomnose, Fyle, Fossick, and so on.
Besides, it would spoil all to say that Guano was up — people would
say directly it couldn't have been much of a run if Guano was
there. You might finish off," observed Jack, after a pause, "by
saying that ' after this truly brilliant affair, Mr. Puffington, like a
thorough sportsman, and one who never trashes his hounds un-
necessarily— unlike some masters,' you may say, 'who never know
when to leave off' (that will he a hit at Old Scamp," observed Jack,
with a frightful squint), "'returned to Hanby House, where a dis-
tinguished party of sportsmen — 'or, say 'a distinguished party of
noblemen and gentlemen' — that'll please the ass more — ' a large
party of noblemen and gentlemen were partaking of his' — his
what shall we call it?"
" Grub ! " said Sponge.
" No, no — summut genteel — his — his — his — ' splendid
hospitality ! ' " concluded Jack waving his arm triumphantly over
his head.
" Hard work, authorship ! " exclaimed Sponge, as he finished
writing, and threw down the pen.
" Oh, I don't know," replied Jack ; adding, " I could go on for
an hour."
"Ah, you! — that's all very well," replied Sponge, "for you,
squatting comfortably in your arm-chair : but consider me, toil-
ing with my pen, bothered with the writing, and craning at the
spelling."
"Never mind, we've done it," replied Jack ; adding, " Puff '11
be as pleased as Punch. We've polished him off uncommon. That's,
just the sort of account to tickle the beggar. He'll go riding
MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. CGI
about the country, showing it to everybody, and wondering- who
wrote it."
" And what shall we send it to ? — the Sporting Magazine, or
what ? " asked Sponge.
"Sporting Magazine! — no," replied Jack; "wouldn't be out
till next year — quick's the word in these railway times. Send it
to a newspaper — Bell's Life, or one of the Swillingfbrd papers.
Either of them would be glad to put it in."
" I hope they'll be able to read it," observed Sponge, looking at
the blotched and scrawled manuscript.
" Trust them for that," replied Jack ; adding " If there's any
word that bothers them, they've nothin' to do but look in the
dictionary — these folks all have dictionaries, wonderful fellows for
spellin'."
Just then a little buttony page, in green and gold, came in to
ask if there were any letters for the post ; and our friends hastily
made up their packet, directing it to the editor of the Swilling-
ford " Guide to Glory and Freeman's Friend;" words that
in the hurried style of Mr. Sponge's penmanship looked very like
"Guide to Grog, and Freeman's Friend."
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
A LITERARY BLOOMER.
Time was when the independent borough of Swillingfbrd
supported two newspapers, or rather two editors, the editor of the
Swillingford Patriot, and the editor of the Swillingford Guide to
Glory ; but those were stirring days, when politics ran high
and votes and corn commanded good prices. The papers were
never very prosperous concerns, as may be supposed when we
say that the circulation of the former at its best time was barely
vseven hundred, while that of the latter never exceeded a
thousand.
They were both started at the reform times, when the reduc-
tion of the stamp-duty brought so many aspiring candidates for
literary fame into the field, and for a time they were conducted
with all the bitter hostility that a contracted neighbourhood, and
a constant crossing by the editors of each other's path, could
engender. The competition, too, for advertisements, was keen, and
the editors were continually taunting each other with taking them
for the duty alone. iEneas M'Quirter wras the editor of the
Patriot, and Felix Grimes that of the Guide to Glory.
2G2 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
M'Quirter, we need hardly say, was a Scotchman — a big, broad-
shouldered Sawney — formidable in "slacks," as he called his
trousers, and terrific in kilts ; while Grimes was a native of
Swillingford, an ex-schoolmaster and parish clerk, and now an
auctioneer, a hatter, a dyer and bleacher, a paper-hanger, to
which the wits said when he set up his paper, he added the trade
of "stainer."
At first the rival editors carried on a " war to the knife " sort
of contest with one another, each denouncing his adversary in
terms of the most unmeasured severity. In this they were
warmly supported by a select knot of admirers, to whom they read
their weekly effusions at their respective " nouses of call " the
evening before publication. Gradually the fire of bitterness began
to pale, and the excitement of friends to die out ; M'Quirter
presently put forth a signal of distress. To accommodate "a large
aud influential number of its subscribers and patrons," he deter-
mined to publish on a Tuesday instead of on a Saturday as here-
tofore, whereupon Mr. Grimes, who had never been able to fill a
single sheet properly, now doubled his paper, lowered his charge
for advertisements, and hinted at his intention of publishing an
occasional supplement.
However exciting it may be for a time, parties soon tire of
carrying on a losing game for the mere sake of abusing each other,
and iEneas M'Quirter not being behind the generality of his
countrymen in "canniness" and shrewdness of intellect, came to
the conclusion that it was no use doing so in this case, especially
as the few remaining friends who still applauded, would be very
sorry to subscribe anything towards his losses. He therefore very
quietly negotiated the sale of his paper to the rival editor, and
having concluded a satisfactory bargain, he placed the bulk of his
property in the poke of his plaid, and walked out of Swillingford
just as if bout on taking the air, leaving Mr. Grimes in undisputed
possession of both papers, who forthwith commenced leading both
Whig and Tory mind, the one on the Tuesday, the other on the
Saturday.
The pot and pipe companions of course saw how things were, but
the majority of the readers living in the country, just continued
to pin their faith to the printed declarations of their oracles,
while Grimes kept up the delusion of sincerity by every now and
then fulminating a tremendous denunciation against his trimming
vacillating, inconsistent opponent on the Tuesday, and then
retaliating with equal vigour upon himself on the Saturday. He
Avrote his own " leaders," both Whig and Tory, the arguments of
one side pointing out answers for the other. Sometimes he led
the way for a triumphant refutal, while the general tone of the
articles was quite of the "upset a ministry" style. Indeed,
ME. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
2G3
Crimes strutted and, swaggered as if the fate of the nation rested
with him.
The papers themselves were not very flourishing-looking con-
cerns, the wide-spread paragraphs, the staring type, the catching
advertisements, forming a curious contrast to the close packing of
MISS GRIMES GITIKC THE "CORRECTED" COPY TO THE riUNTEIl.
the Times. The " Gutta Percha Company," " Locock's Female
Pills," "Keating's Cough Lozenges," and the "Triumphs of
Medicine," all with staring woodcuts and royal arms, occupied
conspicuous places in every paper. A new advertisement was a
novelty. However, the two papers answered a great deal better
than either did singly, and any lack of matter was easily supplied
from the magazines and new books. In this department, indeed,
2G4 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
in the department of elegant light literature generally, Mr. Grirncs
was ably assisted by his eldest daughter, Lucy, — a young lady of a
certain age — say liberal thirty — an ardent Bloomer — with a con-
siderable taste for sentimental poetry, with which she generally
filled the poet's corner. This assistance enabled Grimes to look
after his auctioneering, bleaching, and paper-hanging concerns ;
and it so happened, that when the foregoing run arrived at the
office he, having seen the next paper ready for press, had gone to
Mr. Yospers, some ten miles off, to paper his drawing-room, con-
sequently the duties of deciding upon its publication devolved on
the Bloomer. Now she was a most refined, puritanical young
woman, full of sentiment and elegance, with a strong objection to
what she considered the inhumanities of the chase. At first she
was for rejecting the article altogether, and had it been a run with
the Tinglebury harriers, or even, we believe, with Lord Scamper-
dale's hounds, she would have consigned it to the " Balaam box,"
but seeing it was with Mr. Puffington's hounds, whose house they
had papered, and who advertised with them, she condescended to
read it ; and though her delicacy was shocked at encountering the
word "stunning" at the outset, and also at the term "ravishing-
scent " further on, she nevertheless sent the manuscript to the
compositors, after making such alterations and corrections as she
thought would fit it for eyes polite. The consequence was, that
the article appeared in the following form, though whether all the
absurdities were owing to Miss Lucy's corrections, or the care-
lessness of the writer, or the printers had anything to do with it,
we are not able to say. The errors, some of them arising from
the mere alteration or substitution of a letter, will strike a sporting,
more than a general reader. Thus it appeared in the middle of
the third sheet of the Swilling ford Patriot : —
SPLENDID EUN
WITH ME. PUFFINGTON'S HOUNDS.
This splendid pack had a superb run from Hollyburn Hanger,
the property of its truly popular and sporting owner, Mr. Puffing-
ton. A splendid field of well-appointed sportsmen, among whom
we recognised several distinguished strangers, and members of
Lord Scamperdale's hunt, were present. After partaking of the
well-known profuse and splendid hospitality of Hanby House,
they proceeded at once to Hollyburn Hanger, where a fine seasonal
fox, though some said he was a bay one, broke away in view of the
whole pack, every hound scorning to cry, and making the welkin
ring with their melody. He broke at the lower end of the cover,
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 2G5
and crossing the brook, made straight for Fleecyhaugh Water-
Meadows, over which there is always an exquisite perfume ; from
there he made a slight bend, as if inclining for the plantations at
Winstead, bat changing his mind, he faced the rising ground, and
crossing over nearly the highest point of Shillington Hill, made
direct for the little village of Berrington Roothings below. Here
the hounds came to a check, but Mr. Bragg, who had ridden gal-
lantly on his favourite bay, as fine an animal as ever went, though
somewhat past work of mouth, was well up with his hounds, and
with a " gentle rantipole ! " and a single wave of his arm, pro-
ceeded to make one of those scientific rests for which this eminent
huntsman is so justly celebrated. Hitting off the scent like a
coachman, they went away again at score, and passing by Moor-
linch Farm-buildings, and threading the strip of plantation by
Bexley Burn, he crossed Silverbury Green, leaving Longford Hutch
to the right, and passing straight on by the gibbet at Harpen.
Here, then, the gallant pack, breaking from scent to view, ran into
their box in the open close upon Mountnessing Wood, evidently
his point from the first, and into which a few more strides would
have carried him. It was as fine a run as ever was seen, and the
grunting of the hounds was the admiration of all who heard it.
The distance could not have been less than ten miles as a cow
goes. The justly popular owner of this most celebrated pack.,
though riding good fourteen stones, led the Walters on his famous
chestnut horse Tappey Lappey. After this truly brilliant affair,
Mr. Puffington, like a thorough sportsman, and one who never
thrashes his hounds unnecessarily — unlike some masters who
never know when to leave off — returned to Hanby House, where
a distinguished party of noblemen and gentlemen partook of his
splendid hospitality.
And the considerate Bloomer added of her own accord, " We
hope we shall have to record many such runs in the imperishable
columns of our paper."
26G
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
A MXNER AND A DEAL.
ANOTHER grand
dinner, on a more
extensive scale
than its prede-
cessor, marked
the day of this
glorious run.
" There's from'
to be a great blow
out," observed
Mr. Spraggon to
Mr. Sponge, as,
crossing his
hands and resting
them on the
crown of hishead,
he threw himself
back in his easy
chair, to recruit
after the exertion
of concocting the
description of the
run.
"How d'ye
MB. PACEV.
replied Jack
know ? "
Sponge.
" Saw
adding, "it
asked
by the
reaches
dinner table as we passed,'
nearly to the door."
" Indeed," said Sponge, " I wonder who's coming ? "
"Most likely Guano, again ; indeed, I know he is, for T asked
his groom if he was going home, and he said no ; and Lumpleg,
you may be sure, and possibly old Blossomnose, Slap}), and, very
likely, young Pacey."
" Are they chaps with any ' go' in them ? — shake their elbows,
or anything' of that sort ? " asked Sponge, working away as if he
had the dice-box in his hand.
" I hardly know," replied Jack, thoughtfully. " I hardly know.
Young Pacey, I think, might be made summut on ; but his uncle,
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 2G7
Major Screw, looks uncommon sharp arid Lira, and he's a
minor."
" Would he pay ? " asked Sponge, who, keeping as ho said, " no
books," was not inclined to do business on " tick."
"Don't know," replied Jack, squinting at half-cock; "don't
know — would depend a good deal, I should say, upon how it was
done. It's a deuced unhandsome world this. If one wins a trifle
of a youngster at cards, let it be ever so openly done, it's sure to
say one's cheated, him, just because one happens to be a little
older, as if age had anything to do with making the cards come
right."
"It's an ungenerous world," observed Sponge, "and it's no use
being abused for nothing. What sort of a genius is Pacey ? Is
he inclined to go the pace ? "
" Oh, quite," replied Jack ; " his great desire is to be thought a
sportsman."
"A sportsman or a sporting man ? " asked Sponge.
"W-li-o-y! I should say p'raps a sportin' man more than the
sportsman," replied Jack. " He's a great lumberin' lad, buttons
his great stomach into a Newmarket cut-a-way, and carries a
betting-book in his breast pocket."
" Oh, he's a bettor, is he ! " exclaimed Sponge, brightening up.
"He's a raw poult of a chap," replied Jack ; "just ready for
anything — in a small way, at least — a chap that's always offering
two to one in half-crowns. He'll have money, though, and can't
be far off age. His father was a great spectacle-maker. You
have heard of Pacey's spectacles ? "
" Can't say as how I have," replied Sponge ; adding, " they
are more in your line than mine."
The further consideration of the youth was interrupted by the
entrance of a footman with hot water, who announced that dinner
would be ready in half an hour.
" Who's there coming ? " asked Jack.
" Don't know 'xactly, sir," replied the man ; " believe much the
same party as yesterday, with the addition of Mr. Paccy ; Mr.
Miller, of Newton ; Mr. Fogo, of Bellcvuc ; Mr. Brown, of the
Hill ; and some others, whose names I forget."
" Is Major Screw coming ? " asked Sponge.
" I rayther think not, sir. I think I heard Mr. Plammey, the
butler say he declined."
" So much the better," growled Jack, throwing off his purple-
lapped coat in commencement of his toilette. As the two dressed
they discussed the point how Pacey might be done.
When our friends got down stairs it was evident there was a
great spread. Two red plushed footmen stood on guard in the
entrance, helping the arrivers out of their wraps, while a buzz of
208 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
conversation sounded through the partially-opened drawing-room
door, as Mr. Plummey, stood, handle in hand, to announce the
names of the guests. Our friends, having the entree, of course
passed in as at home, and mingled with the comers and stayers.
Guest after guest quickly followed, almost all making the same
observation, namely, that it was a fine clay for the time of year,
and then each sidled off, rubbing his hands, to the fire. Captain
Guano monopolized about one-half of it, like a Colossus of Rhodes,
with a coat-lap under each arm. He seemed to think that, being
a stayer, he had more right to the fire than the mere diners.
Mr. Puffington moved briskly among the motley throng, now
expatiating on the splendour of the run, now hoping a friend was
hungry, asking a third after his wife, and apologising to a fourth
for not having called on his sister. Still his real thoughts were in
the kitchen, and he kept counting noses and looking anxiously at
the time-piece. After the door had had a longer rest than usual,
Blossomnose at last cast up : " Now we're all here, surely ! "
thought he counting about ; " one, two, three, four, five, six,
seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, thirteen, fourteen,
myself fifteen, fifteen, fifteen, must be another, sixteen, eight
couple asked. Oh, that Pacey's wanting ; always comes late,
won't wait " — so saying, or rather thinking, Mr. Puffington rang
the bell and ordered dinner. Pacey then cast up.
He was just the sort of swaggering youth that Jack had described ;
a youth who thought money would do everything in the world —
make him a gentleman, in short. He came rolling into the room,
grinning as if he had done something fine in being late. He had
both his great red hands in his tight trouser pockets, and drew the
right one out to favour his friends with it " all hot."
" I'm late, I guess," said he, grinning round at the assembled
guests, now dispersed in the various attitudes of expectant caters,
some standing ready for a start, some half sitting on tables and
sofa ends, others resigning themselves complacently to their
chairs, abusing Mr. Pacey and all dinner delayers.
" I'm late, I guess," repeated he, as he now got navigated up to
his host and held out his hand.
" 0 never mind," replied Puffington, accepting as little of the
proffered paw as he could ; " never mind," repeated he, adding, as
he looked at the French clock on the mantel-piece now chiming a
quarter past six, " I dare say I told you we dined at half -past
five."
" Dare say you did, old boy," replied Pacey, kicking out his
legs, and giving Puffington what he meant for a friendly poke in
the stomach, but which in reality nearly knocked his wind out ;
" dare say you did, old boy, but so you did last time, if you
remember, and deuce a bit did I get before six ; so I thought I'd
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 209
he quits with you this — he — he — he — haw — haw — Iulw" grinnino-
and staving about as if he had done something very clever.
Pacey was one of those deplorable beings — a country swell.
Tomkins and Hopkins, the haberdashers of Swillingford never
exhibited an ugly, out-of-the-way neckcloth or waistcoat with the
words " patronised by the Prince," "very fashionable," or "quite
the go," upon them, but he immediately adorned himself in one.
On the present occasion he was attired in a wide-stretchino-, lace-
tipped, black Joinville, with recumbent gills, showing the heavy
amplitude of his enormous jaws, while the extreme scoopino- out of
a collarless, flashy-buttoned, chain-daubed, black silk waistcoat,
with broad blue stripes, afforded an uninterrupted view of a costly
embroidered shirt, the view extending, indeed, up to a portion of
his white satin " forget-me-not " embroidered braces. His coat
was a broad-sfcerned, brass-buttoned blue, with pockets outside,
aud of course he wore a pair of creaking highly varnished boots.
He was, apparently about twenty ; just about the ao-e when a
youth thinks it fine to associate with men, and an age at which
some men are not above taking advantage of a youth. Perhaps
he looked rather older than he was, fur he was stiff built aud
strong, with an ample crop of whiskers, extending from his c'rcat
red docken ears round his harvest moon of a face. He was lumpy,
and clumsy, and heavy all over. Having now got inducted, he
began to stare round the party, and first addressed our worthy
friend Mr. Spraggon.
" Well, Sprag, how are you ? " asked he.
" Well, Specs " (alluding to his father's trade), " how are you ? "
replied Jack, with a growl, to the evident satisfaction of the party,
who seemed to regard Pacey as the common enemy.
Fortunately just at the moment Mr. Plummey restored harmony
by announcing dinner ; and after the usual backing and retiring
of mock modesty, Mr. Puffington said he would " show them the
way," when there was as great a rush to get in, to avoid the bugbear
of sitting with their backs to the fire, as there had been apparent
disposition not to go at all. Notwithstanding the unfavourable
aspect of affairs, Mr. Spraggon placed himself next Mr. Pacey,
who sat a good way down the table, while Mr. Sponge occupied
the post of honour by our host.
In accordance with the usual tactics of these sort of gentlemen,
Spraggon and Sponge essayed to be two— if not exactly strangers!
at all events gentlemen with very little acquaintance. Spraggon
took advantage of a dead silence to call up the table to Muter
Sponge to take wine ; a compliment that Sponge acknowledged
the accordance of by a very low bow into his plate, and by-and^by
Mister Sponge "Mistered" Mr. Spraggon to return the compliment.
" Do you know much of that— that— that— chaj) ? " (he would
5J70 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
have said snob if he'd thought it would be safe,) asked Pacey, as
Sponge returned to still life after the first wine ceremony.
" No," replied Spraggon, " nor do I wish."
" Great snob," observed Pacey.
" Shocking," assented Spraggon.
" He's got a good horse or two, though," observed Pacey ; " I
saw them on the road coming here the other day." Pacey, like
many youngsters, professed to be a judge of horses, and thought
himself rather sharp at a deal.
" They are good horses," replied Jack, with an emphasis on the
good ; adding, " I'd be very glad to have one of them."
Mr. Spraggon then asked Mr. Pacey to take champagne, as the
commencement of a better understanding.
The wine flowed freely, and the guests, particularly the fresh
infusion, did ample justice to it. The guests of the day before,
having indulged somewhat freely, were more moderate at first,
though they seemed well inclined to do their best after they got
their stomachs a little restored. Spraggon cculd drink any given
quantity at any time.
The conversation got brisker and brisker : and before the cloth
was drawn there was a very general clamour, in which all sorts of
subjects seemed to be mixed, — each man addressing himself to his
immediate neighbour ; one talking of taxes, — another of tares, —
a third, of hunting and the system of kennel, — a fourth, of the
corn-laws, — old Blossomnose, about tithes, — Slapp, about timber
and water-jumping, — Miller, about Collison's pills; and Guano,
about anything that he could get a word edged in about. Great,
indeed, was the hubbub. Gradually, however, as the evening
advanced Pacey and Guano out-talked the rest, and at length
Pacey got the noise pretty well to himself. When anything
definite could be extracted from the mass of confusion, he was ex-
patiating on steeple-chasing, hurdle-racing, weights for ago, ons and
oils clever — a sort of mixture of hunting, racing, and " Aiken."
Sponge cocked his car, and sat on the watch, occasionally haz-
arding an observation, while Jack, who was next Pacey, on the
left, pretended to decry Sponge's judgment, asking sotto voce, with
a whiff through his nose, what such a cockney as that could know
about horses ? What between Jack's encouragement, and the
inspiring influence of the bottle, aided by his own self-sufficiency,
Pacey began to look upon Sponge with anything but admiration ;
and at last it occurred to him that he would be a very proper
subject to, what he called " take the shine out of."
" That isn't a bad-like nag, that chestnut of yours, for the
wheeler of a coach, Mr. Sponge," exclaimed he, at the instigation
of Spraggon, to our friend, producing, of course, a loud guffaw
from the party.
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 271
" No, he isn't," replied Sponge, coolly ; adding, " very like one,
I should say."
" Devilish good horse," growled Jack in Pacey's ear.
" Oh, I dare say," whispered Pacey, pretending to be scraping
np the orange syrup in his plate ; adding, " I'm only chaffing the
beggar."
" He looks solitary without the coach at his tail," continued
Pacey, looking up, aud again addressing Sponge up the table.
" He does" affirmed Sponge, amidst the laughter of the
party.
Pacey didn't know how to take this ; whether as a " sell " or a
compliment to his own wit. He sat for a few seconds grinning
and staring like a fool ; at last, after gulping down a bumper of
claret, he again fixed his unmeaning green eyes upon Sponge, and
exclaimed :
" I'll challenge your horse, Mr. Sponge."
A burst of applause followed the announcement ; for it wr.s
evident that amusement was in store.
"You'll iv-h-a-w-t?" replied Sponge, staring, and pretending
ignorance.
"I'll challenge your horse," repeated Pacey with confidence,
and in a tone that stopped the lingering murmur of conversation,
and fixed the attention of the company on himself.
" I don't understand you," replied Sponge, pretending astonish-
ment.
" Lor bless us ! why where have you lived all your life ? " asked
Pacey.
"Oh, partly in one place, and partly in another," was the
answer.
" I should think so," replied Pacey, with a look of compassion ;
adding, in an under tone, " a good deal with your mother I
should think."
" If you could get that horse at a moderate figure," whispered
Jack to his neighbour, and squinting his eyes inside out as he
spoke, " he's well worth having."
" The beggar won't sell him," muttered Pacey, who was fonder
of talking about buying horses than of buying them.
" Oh yes, he will," replied Jack ; " he didn't understand what
you meant. Mr. Sponge," said he, addressing himself slowly and
distinctly up the table to our hero — " Mr. Sponge, my friend Mr.
Pacey here challenges your chestnut."
Sponge still stared in well-feigned astonishment.
"It's a custom we have in this country," continued Jack,
looking, as he thought, at Sponge, but, in reality, squinting most
frightfully at the sideboard.
"Do you mean he wants to buy him ? " asked Sponge.
272 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
" Yes," replied Jack, confidently.
" No, I don't" whispered Pacey, giving Jack a kick under the
table. Pacey had not yet drunk sufficient wine to be rash.
"Yes, yes," replied Jack, tartly, "you do,-" adding, in an
under tone, " leave it to me, man, and I'll let you in for a good
thing. Yes, Mr. Sponge," continued he, addressing himself to our
hero, " Mr. Pacey fancies the chestnut, and challenges him."
" Why doesn't he ask the price ? " replied Sponge, who was
always ready for a deal.
" Ah, the price must be left to a third party," said Jack. " The
principle of the thing is this," continued he, enlisting the aid of
his fingers to illustrate his position : " Mr. Pacey, here," said he,
applying the forefinger of his right hand to the thumb of the left,
looking earnestly at Sponge, but in reality squinting up at the
chandelier — " Mr. Pacey here challenges your horse ' Multum-in-
somethin' — I forget what you said you call him — but the nag I
rode to-day. Well, then," continued Jack, " you " (demonstrating
Sponge by pressing his two forefingers together, and holding them
erect) " accept the challenge, but can challenge anything Mr.
Pacey has— a horse, dog, gun — anything ; and, having fixed on
somethin', then a third party " (who Jack represented by cocking
up his thumb), " any one you like to name, makes the award.
Well, having agreed upon that party " (Jack still cocking up the
thumb to represent the arbitrator), " he says, ' Give me money.'
The two then put, say half-a-crown or five shillin's each, into his
hand, to which the arbitrator adds the same sum for himself.
That being done, the arbitrator says, ' Hands in pockets,
gen'lemen ' " (Jack diving his right hand up to the hilt in his
own). " If this be an award, Mr. Pacey's horse gives Mr. Sponge's
horse so much — draw." (Jack suiting the action to the word,
and laying his fist on the table.) " If each person's hand contains
money, it is an award — it is a deal ; and the arbitrator gets the
half-crowns, or whatever it is, for his trouble ; so that, in course,
he has a direct interest in makin' such an award as will lead to a
deal. Noiv do you understand ? " continued Jack, addressing
himself earnestly to Sponge.
" I think I do," replied Sponge who had been at the game
pretty often.
"Well, then," continued Jack, reverting to his original position,
" my friend, Mr. Pacey here, challenges your chestnut."
" No, never mind" muttered Pacey, peevishly, in an under tone,
with a frown on his face, giving Jack a dig in the ribs with his
elbow. " Never mind," repeated he ; " / don't care about it — /
don't want the horse."
" But / do," growled Jack ; adding, in an under tone also, as
he stooped for his napkin, " don't spoil sjjort, man ; he's as good a
MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 273
horse as ever stepped ; and if you'll challenge him, I'll stand
between you and danger."
" Put he may challenge something I don't want to part with,"
observed Pacey.
" Then you've nothin' to do," replied Jack, " but bring up your
hand without any money in it."
" Ah ! I forgot," replied Pacey, who did not like not to appear
what he called "fly." "Well, then, I challenge your chestnut ! "
exclaimed he, perking up, and shouting up the table to Sponge.
"Good!" replied our friend. "I challenge your watch and
chain, then," looking at Pacey's chain-daubed vest.
" Name me arbitrator," muttered Jack, as he again stooped for
his napkin.
"Who shall handicap us? Captain Guano, Mr. Lumplcg, or
who ? " asked Sponge.
" Suppose we say Spraggon ? — he says he rode the horse to-day,"
replied Pacey.
" Quite agreeable," said Sponge.
"Now, Jack!" "Now, Spraggon!" " Now, old Solomon ! "
"Now, Doctor Wiseman, "resounded from different parts of the fable.
Jack looked solemn ; and diving both hands into his breeches'
pockets, stuck out his legs extensively before him.
" Give me money," said he, pompously. They each handed him
half-a-crown ; and Jack added a third for himself. "Mr. Pacey
challenges Mr. Sponge's chestnut horse, and Mr. Sponge challenges
Mr. Pacey's gold watch," observed Jack, sententiously.
" Come, old Slowman, go on ! " exclaimed Guano ; adding,
" have you got no further than that ? "
"Hurry no man's cattle," replied Jack, tartly; adding, "you
may keep a donkey yourself some day."
"Mr. Pacey challenges Mr. Sponge's chestnut horse," repeated
Jack. " How old is the chestnut, Mr. Sponge ? " added he,
addressing himself to our friend.
" Upon my word I hardly know," replied Sponge, " he's past
mark of mouth ; but I think a hunter's age has very little to do
with his worth."
" Who-y, that depends," rejoined Jack, blowing out his cheeks,
and looking as pompous as possible — " that depends a good deal
upon how he's been used in his youth."
"He's about nine, I should say," observed Sponge, pretending
to have been calculating, though, in reality, he knew nothing
whatever about the horse's age. " Say nine, or rising ten, and
never did a day's work till he was six."
" Indeed ! " said Jack, with an important bow ; adding, " being
easy with them at the beginnin' puts on a deal to the end. Perfect
hunter, I 'spose ? "
274 ME. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUll.
" Why you can judge of that yourself," replied Sponge.
" Perfect hunter, 2" should say," rejoined Jack, "and steady at
his fences — don't know that I ever rode a better fencer. Well,"
continued he, having apparently pondered all that over in his
mind, " I must trouble you to let me look at your ticker," said he,
turning short round on his neighbour.
" There," said Mr. Pacey, producing a fine flash watch from his
waistcoat-pocket, and holding it to Jack.
"The chain's included, in the challenge, mind," observed
Sponge.
"In course," said Jack; "it's what the pawnbrokers call a
watch with its appurts." (Jack had his watch at his uncle's and
knew the terms exactly.)
" It's a repeater, mind," observed Pacey, taking off the chain.
"The chain's heavy," said Jack, running it up in his hand ;
"and here's a pistol-key and a beautiful pencil-case, with the
Pacey crest and motto," observed Jack, trying to decipher the
latter. " If it had been without the words, whatever they arc,"
said he, giving up the attempt, " it would have been worth more,
but the gold's fine, and a new stone can easily be put in."
He then pulled an old hunting-card, out of his pocket, and
proceeded to make sundry calculations and estimates in pencil on
the back.
" Well now," said he, at length, looking up, " I should say, such
a watch as that and appurts," holding them up, " couldn't be
bought in a shop under eight-and-twenty pund."
" It cost five-and-thirty," observed Mr. Pacey.
" Did it ! " rejoined Jack ; adding, " then you were done."
Jack then proceeded to do a little more arithmetic, during
which process Mr. Puffington passed the wine and gave as a toast — ■
" Success to the handicap."
" Well," at length said Jack, having apparently struck a balance,
"hands in pocket, gen'lemen. If this is an award, Mr. Pacey's
gold watch and appurts gives Mr. Sponge's chestnut horse seventy
golden sovereigns. Show money" whispered Jack to Pacey, adding,
" I'll stand the shot."
" Stop ! " roared Guano, " do cither of you sport your hand ? "
" Yes, I do," replied Mr. Pacey, coolly.
" And I," said Mr. Sponge.
" Hold hard, then, gen'leman ! " roared Jack, getting excited,
and beginning to foam. " Hold hard, gen'lemen ! " repeated he,
just as he was in the habit of roaring at the troublesome customers
in Lord. Scamperdale's field ; " Mr. Pacey and Mr. Sponge both
sport their hands."
" I'll lay a guinea Pacey doesn't hold money," exclaimed
Guano.
ME. SPONGE'S SPOETING TOUR. 275
" Done ! " exclaimed Parson Blossomnnse.
" I'll bet it does," observed Charley Slapp.
" I'll take you," replied Mr. Miller.
Then the hubbub of betting commenced, and raged with fury
for a short time ; some betting sovereigns, some half-sovereigns,
others half-crowns and shillings, as to whether the hands of one
or both held money.
Givers and takers being at length accommodated, perfect silence
at length reigned, and all eyes turned upon the doubled fists of
the respective champions.
Jack having adjusted his great tortoiseshell-rimmed spectacles,
and put on a most consequential air, inquired, like a gambling-house
keeper, if they were "All done" — had all "made their game ?"
And " Yes ! yes ! yes ! " resounded from all quarters.
"Then, gen'lemen," said Jack, addressing Pacey and Sponge,
who still kept their closed hands on the table — " show ! "
At the word, their hands opened, and each held money.
" A deal ! a deal ! a deal ! " resounded through the room,
accompanied with clapping of hands, thumping of the table, and
dancing of glasses. " You owe me a guinea," exclaimed one. " I
want half a sovereign of you," roared another. " Here's my half-
crown," said a third, handing one across the table to the fortunate
winner. A general settlement took place, in the midst of which
the " watch and appurts " were handed to Mr. Sponge.
_ " We'll drink Mr. Pacey's health," said Mr. Puffington helping
himself to a bumper, and passing the lately replenished decanters.
" He's done the thing like a sportsman, and deserves to have luck
with his deal. Your good health, Mr. Pacey ! " continued he,
addressing himself specifically to ' our friend, " and luck to your
horse."
" Your good health, Mr. Pacey — your good health Mr. Pacey —
your good health, Mr. Pacey," then followed in the various intona-
tions that mark the feelings of the speaker towards the ioastee, as
the bottles passed round the table.
The excitement seemed to have given fresh zest to the wine, and
those who had been shirking, or rilling' on heel-taps, now began
filling bumpers, while those Avho always filled bumpers now took
back hands.
There is something about horse-dealing that seems to interest
every one. Conversation took a brisk turn, and nothing but the
darkness of the night prevented their having the horse out and
trying him. Pacey wanted him brought into the dining-room, d
la Briggs, but Puff wouldn't stand that. The transfer seemed to
have invested the animal with supernatural charms, and those who
in general cared nothing about horses wanted to have a sight of
him.
t 2
276 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
Toasting having commenced, as usual, it was proceeded with.
Sponge's health followed that of Mr. Pacey's, Mr. Puffington
availing himself of the opportunity afforded by proposing it, of
expressing the gratification it afforded himself and all true sports-
men to see so distinguished a character in the country ; and he
concluded by hoping that the diminution of his stud would not
interfere with the length of his visit — a toast that was drunk with
great applause.
Mr. Sponge replied by saying, "That he certainly had not
intended parting with his horse, though one more or less was
neither here nor there, especially in these railway times, when a
man had nothing to do but take a half-guinea's worth of electric
wire, and have another horse in less than no time ; but Mr. Pacey
having taken a fancy to the horse, he had been more accommoda-
ting to him than he had to his friend, Mr. Spraggon, if he would
allow him to call him so (Jack squinted and bowed assent), who,"
continued Mr. Sponge, " had in vain attempted that morning to
get him to put a price upon him."
" Very trw" whispered Jack to Pacey, with a feel of the elbow
in his ribs, adding, in an under tone, "the beggar doesn't think
I've got him in spite of him, though."
" The horse," Mr. Sponge continued, " was an undeniable good
'un and he wished Mr. Pacey joy of his bargain."
This venture having been so successful, others attempted similar
means, appointing Mr. Spraggon the arbitrator. Captain Guano
challenged Mr. Fogo's phaeton, while Mr. Fogo retaliated upon
the captain's chestnut horse ; but the captain did not hold
money to the award. Blossomnose challenged Mr. Miller's pig :
but the latter could not be induced to claim anything of the
worthy rector's for Mr. Spraggon to exercise his appraising talents
upon. After an evening of much noise and confusion, the wine-
heated party at last broke up— the staying company retiring to
their couches, and the outlying ones finding their ways home as
best they could.
Mil. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
277
CHAPTEK XL.
THE MORNING'S REFLECTIONS.
HEN young
Pacey awoke
in the morn-
ing he had a
very bad head-
ache, and his
temples throb-
bed as if the
veins would
burst their
bounds. The
first thing that
recalled the
actual position
of affairs to his
mind was feel-
ing under the
pillow for his
watch : a fruit-
less search,
that ended in
recalling some-
thing of the
overnight's
proceedings.
Pacey liked
a cheap flash,
and wThen elated wTith wine might be betrayed into indiscretions
that his soberer moments were proof against. Indeed, among
youths of his own age he was reckoned rather a sharp hand ; and
it was the vanity of associating with men, and wishing to appear
a match for them, that occasionally brought him into trouble. In
a general way, he was a very cautious hand.
He now lay tumbling and tossing about in bed, and little by
little he laid together the outline of the evening's proceedings,
beginning with his challenging Mr. Sponge's chestnut, and
ending with the resignation of his watch and chain. He
thought he was wrong to do anything of the sort. He didn't want
the horse, not he. What should he do with him ? he had one
more than he wanted as it was. Then, paying for him seventy
Mil I'LFl INGTuN.
278 ME. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
sovereigns ! confound it, it would be very inconvenient — most
inconvenient — indeed, he couldn't do it, so there was end of it.
The facilities of carrying out after-dinner transactions frequently
vanish with the morning's sun. So it was with Mr. Paeey. Then
he began to think how to get out of it. . Should he tell Mr. Sponge
candidly the state of his finances, and trust to his generosity for
letting him off ? "Was Mr. Sponge a likely man to do it ? He
thought he was. But then, would he blab ? He thought he
would, and that would blow him among those by whom he wished
to he thought knowing, a man not to be done. Altogether he was
very much perplexed : seventy pounds was a vast of money ; and
then there was his watch gone, too ! a hundred and more altogether.
He must have been drunk to do it — very drunk, he should say ;
and then he began to think whether he had not better treat it as
an after-dinner frolic, and pretend to forget all about it. That
seemed feasible.
All at once it occurred to Pacey that Mr. Spraggon was tho
purchaser, and that he was only a micldle-man. His headache
forsook him for the moment, and he felt a new man. It was
clearly the case, and bit by bit he recollected all about it. How
Jack had told him to challenge the horse, and he would stand to
the bargain ; how he had whispered him (Pacey) to name him
(Jack) arbitrator ; and how he had done so, and Jack had made
the award. Then he began to think that the horse must he a
good one, as Jack would not set too high a price on him, seeing
that he was the purchaser. Then he wondered that he had put
enough on to induce Sponge to sell him : that rather puzzled him.
He lay a long time tossing, and proing and coning, without being
able to arrive at any satisfactory solution of the matter. At last
he rang his bell, and finding it was eight o'clock he got up, and
proceeded to dress himself ; which operation being accomplished,
he sought Jack's room, to have a little confidential conversation
with him on the subject, and arrange about paying Sponge for the
horse, without letting out who was the purchaser.
Jack was snoring, with his great mouth wide open, and his
grizzly head enveloped in a white cotton nightcap. The noise of
Pacey entering awoke him.
" Well, old boy," growled he, turning over as soon as he saw who
it was, " what are you up to ? "
" Oh, nothing particular," replied Mr. Pacey, in a careless sort of
tone.
" Then make yourself scarce, or I'll baptise you in a way ycu
won't like," growled Jack, diving under the bedclothes.
" Oh, why I just wanted to have — have half-a-dozen words with
you about our last night's " (ha — hem — haw !) " handicap, you
know — about the horse you know."
MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 279
" About the 10-h-a-w-iV drawled Jack, as if perfectly ignorant
of what Pacey was talking about.
" About the horse, you know — about Mr. Sponge's horse, you
know — that you got me to challenge for you, you know," stammered
Pacey.
" Oh, dash it, the chap's drunk," growled Jack aloud to himself ;
adding to Pacey, " you shouldn't get up so soon, man — sleep the
drink off."
Pacey stood nonplussed.
" Don't you remember, Mr. Spraggon," at last asked he,
after watching the tassel of Jack's cap peeping above the bed-
clothes, " what took place last night, you know ? You asked
mo to get you Mr. Sponge's chestnut, and you know I did, you
know."
"Hout, lad, disperse! — get out of this!" exclaimed Jack,
starting his great red face above the bedclothes, and squinting
frightfully at Pacey.
" Well, my dear friend, but you did," observed Pacey, sooth-
ingly.
" Nonsense ! " roared Jack, again ducking under.
Pacey stood agape.
" Come ! " exclaimed Jack, again starting up, " cut your stick !
— be off! — make yourself scarce! — give your rags a gallop, in
short ! — don't be after disturbin' a gen'leman of fortin's rest in
this way."
"But, my dear Mr. Spraggon," resumed Pacey, in the same
gentle tone, " you surely forget what you asked me to do."
"I do" replied Jack, firmly.
" Well, but, my dear Mr. Spraggon, if you'll have the kindness
to recollect — to consider — to reflect on what passed, you'll surely
remember commissioning me to challenge Mr. Sponge's horse for
you?"
"Me!" exclaimed Jack, bouncing up in bed, and sitting
squinting furiously. "J/e/" repeated ho ; " ^possible. How
could /do such a thing ? Why, I handicap'd him, man, for you,
man ? "
" You told me, for all that," replied Mr. Pacey, with a jerk of
the head.
" Oh, by Jove ! " exclaimed Jack, taking his cap by the tassel,
and twisting it off his head, " that won't do ! — downright impeach-
ment of one's integrity. Oh, by Jingo ! that won't do ! " motion-
ing as if he was going to bounce out of bed ; " can't stand that —
impeach one's integrity, you know, better take one's life, you know.
Life without honour's nothin', you know. Cock pheasant at Wey-
bridjje, six o'clock i' the mornin' ! "
"Oh, I assure you, I didn't mean anything of that sort,"
2S0 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
exclaimed Mr. Pacey, frightened at Jack's vehemence, and the way
in which he now foamed at the mouth, and flourished his nightcap
about. " Oh, I assure you, I didn't mean anything of that sort,"
repeated he, "only I thought p'raps you mightn't recollect all that
had passed, p'raps ; and if we were to talk matters quietly over, by
putting that and that together, we might assist each other
and »
" Oh, by Jove ! " interrupted Jack, dashing his nightcap
against the bedpost, "too late for anything of that sort, sir —
downright impeachment of one's integrity, sir — must be settled
another way, sir."
" But, I assure you, you mistake ! " exclaimed Pacey.
" Pot your mistakes ! " interrupted Jack ; " there's no mistake
in the matter. You've ra/larly impeached my integrity — blood of
the Spraggons won't stand that. ' Death before Dishonour!'*"
shouted he, at the top of his voice, flourishing his nightcap over
his head, and then dashing it on to the middle of the floor.
" What's the matter ? — what's the matter ? — what's the
matter ? " exclaimed Mr. Sponge, rushing through the connecting
door. " "What's the matter ? " repeated he, placing himself between
the bed in which Jack still sat upright, squinting his eyes inside
out, and where Mr. Pacey stood.
" Oh, Mr. Sponge ! " exclaimed Jack, clasping his raised hands
in thankfulness, "I'm so glad you're here! — I'm so thankful
you're come ! I've been insulted ! — oh, goodness, how I've been
insulted ! " added he, throwing himself back in the bed, as if
thoroughly overcome with his feelings.
" Well, but what's the matter ? — what is it all about ? " asked
•Sponge, coolly, having a pretty good guess what it was.
" Never was so insulted in my life ! " ejaculated Jack, from
under the bedclothes.
"Well, but what is it ? " repeated Sponge, appealing to Pacey,
who stood as pale as ashes.
" Oh ! nothing," replied he ; " quite a mistake ; Mr. Spraggon
misunderstood me altogether."
" Mistake ! There's no mistake in the matter ! " exclaimed Jack,
appearing again on the surface like an otter ; "you gave me the
lie as plain as a pikestaff."
"Indeed!" observed Mr. Sponge, drawing in his breath and
raising his eyebrows right up into the roof of his head. " Indeed ! "
repeated he.
"No ; nothing of the sort, I assure you," asserted Mr. Pacey.
" Must have satisfaction ! " exclaimed Jack, again diving under
the bedclothes.
"Well, but let us hear how matters stand," said Mr. Sponge,
coolly, as Jack's grizzly head appeared.
ME. SPONGE'S SPOETIXG TOTJE. 281
*' You'll be my second," growled Jack, from under the bed-
clothes.
" Oh ! second be hanged," retorted Sponge. " You've nothing
to fight about ; Mr. Pacey says he didu't mean anything, that you
misunderstood him, and what more can a man want ? "
" Just so," replied Mr. Pacey — " just so. I assure you I never
intended the slightest imputation on Mr. Spraggon."
" I'm sure not," replied Mr. Sponge.
" H-u-m-p-h" grunted Jack from under the bedclothes, like a
pig in the straw. Not showing any disposition to appear on the
surface again, Mr. Sponge, after standing a second or two, gave a
jerk of his head to Mr. Pacey, and forthwith conducted him
into his own room, shutting the door between Mr. Spraggon and
him.
Mr. Sponge then inquired into the matter, kindly sympathising
with Mr. Pacey, who he was certain never meant anything dis-
respectful to Mr. Spraggon, who, Mr. Sponge thought, seemed
rather quick at taking ofl'ence ; though, doubtless, as Mr. Sponge
observed, " a man was perfectly right in being tenacious of
his integrity," a position that he illustrated by a familiar
passage from Shakespeare, about stealing a purse and stealing
trash, &c.
Emboldened by his kindness, Mr. Pacey then get Mr. Sponge on
to talk about the horse of which he had become the unwilling
possessor — the renowned chestnut, Multum in Parvo.
Mr. Sponge spoke like a very prudent, conscientious man ; said
that really it was difficult to give an opinion about a horse ; that
what suited one man might not suit another — that he considered
Multum in Parvo a very good horse ; indeed, that he wouldn't
have parted with him if he hadn't more than he wanted, and the
cream of the season had passed without his meeting with any of
those casualties that rendered the retention of an extra horse or two
desirable. Altogether, he gave Mr. Pacey to understand that he
held him to his bargain. Having thanked Mr. Sponge for his
great kindness, and got an order on the groom (Mr. Leather) to
have the horse out, Mr. Pacey took his departure to the stable, and
Sponge having summoned his neighbour Mr. Spraggon from his
lied, the two proceeded to a passage window that commanded a
view of the stable-yard.
Mr. Pacey presently went swaggering across it, cracking his
jockey whip against his leg, followed by Mr. Leather, with a saddle
on his shoulder and a bridle in his hand.
" He'd better keep his whip quiet," observed Mr. Sponge, with a
shake of his head, as he watched Pacey's movements.
"The beggar thinks he can ride anything," observed Jack.
" He'll find his mistake out just now," replied Sponge.
282 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
Presently the stable-door opened, and the horse stepped slowly
and quietly out, looking blooming and bright after his previous
day's gallop. Pacey running his eyes over his clean muscular
legs and finely-shaped form, thought he hadn't done so far amiss
after all. Leather stood at the horse's head whistling and sooth-
ing him, feeling anything but the easy confidence that Mr. Pacey
exhibited. Putting his whip under his arm, Pacey just walked up
to the horse, and, placing the point of his foot in the stirrup,
hoisted himself on by the mane, without deigning to take hold of
reins. Having soused himself into the saddle he then began
feeling the stirrups.
" How are they for length, sir ? " asked Leather with a hitch of
his hand to his forehead.
" They'll do," replied Pacey, in a tone of indifference, gathering
up the reins, and applying his left heel to the horse's side, while
he gave him a touch of the whip on the other. The horse gave a
wince, and a hitch up behind ; as much as to say, " If you do
that again I'll kick in right earnest," and then walked quietly out
of the yard.
"I took the fiery edge off him yesterday, I think," observed
Jack, as he watched the horse's leisurely movements.
" Not so sure of that," replied Sponge adding, as he left the
passage-window, " he'll be trying him in the park ; let's go and
see him from my window."
Accordingly, our friends placed themselves at Sponge's bed-room
window, and presently the clash of a gate announced that Sponge
was right in his speculation. In another second the horse and
rider appeared in sight, — the horse going much at his ease, but Mr.
Pacey preparing himself for action. He began working the bridle
and kicking his sides, to get him into a canter ; an exertion that
produced quite a contrary effect, for the animal slackened his pace
as Pacey 's efforts increased. When, however, he took his whip
from under his arm, the horse darted right up into the air, and
plunging clown again, with one convulsive effort shot Mr. Pacey
several yards over his head, knocking his head clean through his
hat. The brute then began to graze, as if nothing particular had
happened. This easy indifference, however, did not extend to the
neighbourhood ; for no sooner was Mr. Pacey floored than there
was such a rush of grooms, and helpers, and footmen, and
gardeners, — to say nothing of women, — from all parts of the
grounds, as must have made it very agreeable to him to know how
he had been watched. One picked him up,— another his hat-crown,
— a third his whip, — a fourth his gloves, — while Margaret, the
housemaid, rushed to the rescue with her private bottle of sal
volatile, — and John, the under-butler, began to extricate him from
the new-fashioned neckcloth he had made of his hat.
MB. SPONGE'S SPOBTIXG TOUR. 2S3
Though our friend was a good deal shaken by the fall, the
injury to his body was trifling compared to that done to his mind.
Being kicked off a horse was an indignity he had never calculated
upon. Moreover, it was done in such a masterly manner as clearly
showed it could be repeated at pleasure. In addition to which
everybody laughs at a man that is kicked off. All these considera-
tions rushed to his mind, and made him determine not to brook
the mirth of the guests as well as the servants.
Accordingly he borrowed a hat and started off home, and seeking
his guardian, Major Screw, confided to him the position of affairs.
The major, who was a man of the world, forthwith commenced a
negotiation with Mr. Sponge, who, after a good deal of haggling,
and not until the horse had shot the major over his head, too, at
length, as a great favour, consented to take fifty pounds to rescind
the bargain, accompanying his kindness by telling the major to
advise his ward never to dabble in horseflesh after dinner ; a piece of
advice that we also very respectfully tender to our juvenile readers.
And Sponge shortly after sent Spraggon a five pound note as his
share of the transaction.
When Mr. Puffin gton read Messrs. Sponge and Spraggon's
account of the run with his hounds, in the Swillingford paper, he
was perfectly horrified ; words cannot describe the disgust that he
felt. It came upon him quite by surprise, for he expected to be
immortalised in some paper or work of general circulation, in
which the Lords Loosefish, Sir Toms, and Sir Harrys of former
days might recognise the spirited doings of their early friend. He
wanted the superiority of his establishment, the excellence of his
horses, the stoutness of his hounds, and the polish of his field,
proclaimed, with perhaps a quiet cut at the Flat-Hat gentry ;
instead of which he had a mixed medley sort of a mess, whose
humdrum monotony was only relieved by the absurdities and errors
with which it was crammed. At first, Mr. Puffington could not make
out what it meant, whether it was a hoax for the purpose of turn-
ing run-writing into ridicule, or it had suffered mutilation at the
hands of the printer. Calling a good scent an exquisite pcrfiune
looked suspicious of a hoax, but then seasonal fox for seasoned fox,
scorning to cry for scoring to cry, bay fox for bag fox, grunting
for hunting, thrashing for trashing, rests for casts, and other
absurdities, looked more like accident than design.
These are the sort of errors that non-sporting compositors might
easily make, one term being as much like English to them as the
other, though amazingly different to the eye or the ear of a sports-
man. Mr. Puffington was thoroughly disgusted. He was sick of
hounds and horses, and Bragg, and hay and corn, and kennels and
meal, and saddles and bridles ; and now, this absurdity seemed to
cap the whole thing. He was ill-prepared for such a shock. The
284 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
exertion of successive dinner-giving — above all, of bachelor dinner-
giving — and that too in the country, where men sit, talk, talk, talking,
sip, sip, sipping, and "just another bottle-ing " ; more, we believe,
from want of some thing else to do than from any natural inclina-
tion to exceed ; the exertion, we say, of such parties had completely
unstrung our fat friend, and ill-prepared his nerves for such a
shock. Being a great man for his little comforts, he always
breakfasted in his dressing-room, which he had fitted up in the
most luxurious style, and where he had his newspapers (most
carefully ironed out) laid with his letters against he came in. It
was late on the morning following our last chapter, ere he thought
he had got rid of as much of his winy headache as fitful sleep
would carry off, and enveloped himself in a blue and yellow- flowered
silk dressing-gown and Turkish slippers. He looked at his letters,
and knowing their outsides, left them for future perusal ; and
sousing himself into the depths of a many-cushioned easy chair,
proceeded to spell his Morning Post — Tattersall's advertisements
— "Grosjean's Paletots "— " Mr. Albert Smith "— " Coals, best
Stewart Hetton or Lambton's " — " Police intelligence " and such
other light reading as does not require any great effort to connect
or comprehend.
Then came his breakfast, for which he had very little appetite,
though he relished his coffee, and also an anchovy. While daudling
over these, he heard sundry wheels grinding about below the
window, and the bumping and thumping of boxes, indicative of
''goings away," for which he couldn't say he felt sorry. He
couldn't even be at the trouble of getting up and going to the
window to see who it was that was off, so weary and head-achy
was he. He rolled and lolled in his chair, now taking a sip of
coffee, now a bite of anchovy toast, now considering whether he
durst venture on an egg, and again having recourse to the Post.
At last having exhausted all the light reading in it, and scanned
through the list of hunting appointments, he took up the Swilling-
ford paper to see that they had got his "meets" right for the next
week. How astonished he wras to find the previous clay's run
staring him in the face, headed "Splendid Run with Mr.
Puffington's Hounds," in the imposing type here displayed.
" Well, that's quick work, however," said he, casting his eyes up
to the ceiling in astonishment, and thinking how unlike it was the
Swillingford papers, which were always a week, but generally a
fortnight behindhand with information. "Splendid run with Mr.
Puffington's hounds," read he again, wondering who had done it :
— Bardolph, the innkeeper ; Allsop, the cabinet-maker ; Tuggins,
the doctor, were all out ; so was Weatherhog, the butcher. Which
of them could it be ; Grimes, the editor, wasn't there ; indeed, he
couldn't ride, and the country was not adapted for a gig.
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 285
He then began to read it, and the farther ho got the more he
was disgusted. At last, when he came to the "seasonal fox, which
some thought was a bay one," his indignation knew no bounds,
and crumpling the paper up in a heap he threw it from him in disgust.
Just then in came Plummey, the butler. Pluinmey saw at a glance
what had happened ; for Mr. Bragg, and the whips, and the
grooms, and the helpers, and the feeder — the whole hunting
establishment — were up in arms at the burlesque, and vowing
vengeance against the author of it. Mr. Spraggon, on seeing what
a mess had been made of his labours, availed himself of the offer of
a seat in Captain Guano's dog-cart, and was clear of the premises ;
while Mr. Sponge determined to profit by Spraggon's absence, and
lay the blame on him.
"Oh, Plummey!" exclaimed Mr. Puffington, as his servant
entered, " I'm deuced unwell — quite knocked up, in short,"
clapping his hand on his forehead; adding, "I shall not be able to
dine down-stairs to-day."
" 'Deed, sir," replied Mr. Plummey, in a tone of commiseration —
" 'deed, sir ; sorry to hear that, sir."
" Are they all gone ? " asked Mr. Puffington, dropping his boiled
gooseberry-looking eyes upon the fine-flowered carpet.
"All gone, sir— all gone," replied Mr. Plummey; "all except
Mr. Sponge."
" Oh, he's still here ! " replied Mr. Puffington, shuddering with
disgust at the recollection of the newspaper run. "Is he going to-
day ? " asked he.
" No, sir — I dare say not, sir," replied Mr. Plummey. " His man
— his groom — his — whatever he calls him, expects they'll be
staying some time."
" The deuce ! " exclaimed Mr. Puffington, whose hospitality, like
Jawleyford's was greater in imagination than in rtality.
" Shall I take these things away ? " asked Plummey, after a
pause.
" Couldn't you manage to get him to go ?" asked Mr. Puffington,
still harping on his remaining guest.
" Don't know, sir. I could try, sir — believe he's bad to move,
sir," replied Plummey, with a grin.
" Is he really ? " replied Mr. Puffington, alarmed lest Sponge
should fasten himself upon him for good.
" They say so," replied Mr. Plummey, " but I don't speak from
any personal knowledge, for I know nothing of the man."
"Well," said Mr. Puffington, amused at his servant's exclusivc-
ness, "I wish you would try to get rid of him, bow him out civilly,
you know — say I'm unwell — very unwell — deuced unwell — ordered
to keep quiet — say it as if from yourself, you know — it mustn't
appear as if it came from me, you know."
2SG MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
" In course not," replied Mr. Plummey, " in course not ; " adding,
" I'll do my best, sir — I'll do my best." So saying, he took up the
breakfast things and departed.
Mr. Sponge regaling himself with a cigar in the stables and
shrubberies, "it was some time before Mr. Plummey had an oppor-
tunity of trying his diplomacy upon him, it being contrary to Mr.
Plummcy's custom to go out of doors after any one. At last he
saw Sponge coming lounging along the terrace-walk, looking like a
man thoroughly disengaged, and timing himself properly, en-
countered him in the entrance.
" Beg pardon, sir," said Mr. Plummey, " but cook, sir, wishes to
know, sir, if you dine here to-day, sir ? "
" Of course," replied Mr. Sponge, " where would you have me
dine?"
" Oh, I didn't know, sir — only Mr. Puffington, sir, is very poorly,
sir, and I thought p'raps you'd be dining out."
" Poorly is he ? " replied Mr. Sponge ; " sorry to hear that —
what's the matter with him ? "
" Bad bilious attack, I think," replied Plummey — " very
subject them, at this time of year particklarly ; was laid up,
at least confined to his room, three weeks last year of a similar
attack."
" Indeed ! " replied Mr. Sponge, not relishing the information.
" Then I must say you'll dine here ? " said the butler.
"Yes ; I must have my dinner, of course," replied Mr. Sponge.
" I'm not ill, you know ; no occasion to make a great spread for
me, you know ; but still I must have some victuals, you know."
" Certainly, sir certainly," replied Mr. Plummey.
" I couldn't think of leaving Mr. Puffington when he's poorly,"
observed Mr. Sponge, half to himself and half to the butler.
" Oh, master— that's to say, Mr. Puffington always does best
when left alone," observed Mr. Plummey, catching at the sentence:
" indeed the medical men recommend perfect quiet and moderate
living as the best thing."
"Do they," replied Sponge, taking out another cigar. Mr.
Plummey then withdrew, and presently went up-stairs to report
progress, or rather want of progress, to the gentleman whom he
sometimes condescended to call " master."
Mr. Puffington had been taking another spell at the paper, and
we need hardly say, that the more he read of the run the less he
liked it.
" Ah, that's Mr. Sponge's handiwork," observed Plummey, as
with a sneer of disgust Mr. Puffington threw the paper from him
as Plummey entered the room.
" How do you know ? " asked Mr. Puffington.
" Saw it, sir— saw it in the letter-bag going to the post."
MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 287
" Indeed ! " replied Mr. Puffin-ton.
" Mr. Spraggon and he did it after they came in from hunting."
" I thought as much," replied Mr. Puffing-ton, in disgust.
Mr. Plummey then related how unsuccessful had been his
attempts to get rid of the now most unwelcome guest. Mr.
Puffington listened with attention, determined to get rid of him
somehow or other. Plummey was instructed to ply Sponge well
with hints, all of which, however, Mr. Sponge skilfully parried.
So, at last, Mr. Puffington scrawled a miserable looking note,
explaining how very ill he was, how he regretted being deprived of
Mr. Sponge's agreeable society, but hoping that it would suit Mr.
Sponge to return as soon as he was better and pay the remainder
of his visit — a pretty intelligible notice to quit, and one which
even the cool Mr. Sponge was rather at a loss how to parry.
He did not like the aspect of affairs. In addition to having to
spend the evening by himself, the cook sent him a very moderate
dinner, smoked soup, sodden fish, scraggy cutlets, and sour pud-
ding. Mr. Plummey, too, seemed to have put all the company
bottle-ends together for him. This would not do. If Sponge
could have satisfied himself that his host would not be better in a
day or two, he would have thought seriously of leaving ; but as he
could not bring himself to think that he would not, and, moreover,
had no place to go to, had it not been for the concluding portion
of Mr. Puffington's note, he would have made an effort to stay.
That, however, put it rather out of his power, especially as it was
done so politely, and hinted at a renewal of the visit. Mr. Sponge
spent the evening in cogitating what he should do — thinking
what sportmen had held out the hand of good-fellowship, and
hinted at hoping to have the pleasure of seeing him. Fyle,
Fossick, Blossomnose, Capon, Dribble, Hook, and others, were all
run through his mind, without his thinking it prudent to attempt
to fix a volunteer visit upon any of them. Many people he knew
could pen polite excuses, who yet could not hit them off at the
moment, especially in that great arena of hospitality — the hunting-
field. He went to bed very much perplexed.
288 MB. SPONGE'S SPOBTING TGUB.
\
CHAPTER XLL
WAXTED — A RICH GOD-PAPA !
THE JOCillLKBURYS AT HOME.
"When one door shuts another opens," say the saucy servants ;
and fortune was equally favourable to our friend Mr. Sponge.
Though he could not think of any one to whom he could volunteer
a visit, Dame Fortune provided him with an overture from a party
who wanted him ! But we will introduce his new host, or rather
victim.
People hunt from various motives— some for the love of the
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 2S9
thing — some for show — some for fashion — some for health — some
for appetites — some for coffee-housing — some to say they have
hunted — some because others hunt.
Mr. Jogglebury Crowdey did not hunt from any of these motives,
and it would puzzle a conjurer to make out why he hunted ; indeed,
the members of the different hunts he patronised — for he was one
of the round-about, non-subscribing sort — were long in finding
out. It was observed that he generally affected countries abound-
ing in large woods, such as Stretchaway Forest, Hazelbury Chase,
and Oakington Banks, into which he would dive with the greatest
avidity. At first people thought he was a very keen hand, anxious
to see a fox handsomely found, if he could not see him handsomely
finished, against which latter luxury his figure and activity, or want
of activity, were somewhat opposed. Indeed, when we say that he
went by the name of the Woolpack, our readers will be able to ima-
gine the style of man he was : long-headed, short-necked, large-
girthed, dumpling-legged little fellow, who, like most fat men, made
himself dangerous by compressing a most unreasonable stomach into
a circumscribed coat, each particular button of which looked as if
it wras ready to burst off, and knock out the eye of any one who
might have the temerity to ride alongside of him. He was a puffy,
Avheezy, sententious little fellow, who accompanied his parables with
a snort into a large finely -plaited shirt-frill, reaching nearly up to
his nose. His hunting-costume consisted of a black coat and
waistcoat, with white moleskin breeches, much cracked and darned
about the knees and other parts, as nether garments made of that
treacherous stuff often are. Hi3 shapeless tops, made regard-
less of the refinements of "right and left," dangled at his horse's
sides like a couple of stable-buckets ; and he carried his heavy iron
hammer-headed whip over his shoulder like a flail. But we are
drawing his portrait instead of saying why he hunted. Well, then,
having married Mrs. Springwheat's sister, who was always boasting
to Mrs. Crowdey what a loving, doating husband Springey was
after hunting, Mrs. Crowdey had induced Crowdey to try his hand,
and though soon satisfied that he hadn't the slightest taste for the
sport, but being a great man for what he called gibbey-sticks, he
hunted for the purpose of finding them. As we said before,
he generally appeared at large woodlands, into which he would
ride with the hounds, plunging through the stiffesfc clay, and forc-
ing his way through the strongest thickets, making observations all
the while of the hazels, and the hollies, and the blackthorns, and,
we are sorry to say, sometimes of the young oaks and ashes, that
he thought would fashion into curious-handled walking-sticks ;
and these he would return for at a future day, getting them with
as large clubs as possible, which he would cut into the heads of
beasts or birds, or fishes, or men. At the time of which we are
290 MP. SPONGE'S SPORTING- TOUR.
writing;, he had accumulated a vast quantity — thousands ; the
garret at the top of his house was quite full, so were most of the
closets, while the rafters in the kitchen, and cellars, and out-
houses, were crowded with others in a state of deshabille. He
calculated his stock at immense worth, we don't know how many
thousand pounds ; and as he cut, and puffed, and wheezed, and
modelled, with a volume of Buffon, or the picture of some emi-
nent man before him, he chuckled, and thought how well he was
providing for his family. He had been at it so long, and argued so
stoutly, that Mrs. Jogglebury Crowdey, if not quite convinced of
the accuracy of his calculations, nevertheless thought it well to
encourage his hunting predilections, inasmuch as it brought him in
contact with people he would not otherwise meet, who, she thought,
might possibly be useful to their children. Accordingly, she got
him his breakfast betimes on hunting-mornings, charged his
pockets with currant-buns, and saw to the mending of his mole-
skins when he came home, after any of those casualties that occur
as well in the chase as in gibbey-stick hunting.
A stranger being a marked man in a rural country, Mr. Sponge
excited more curiosity in Mr. Jogglebury Crowdey's mind than Mr.
Jogglebury Crowdey did in Mr. Sponge's. In truth, Jogglebury
was one of those unsportsmanlike beings, that a regular fox-hunter
would think it waste of words to inquire about, and if Mr. Sponge
saw him, he did not recollect him ; while, on the other hand, Mr.
Jogglebury Crowdey went home very full of our friend. Now,
Mrs. Jogglebury Crowdey was a fine, bustling, managing woman,
with a large family, for whom she exerted all her energies to pro-
cure desirable god-papas and mammas ; and, no sooner did she
hear of this new-comer, than she longed to appropriate him for
god-papa to their youngest son.
" Jog, my dear," said she, to her spouse, as they sat at tea ; " it
would be well to look after him."
"What for, my dear ? " asked Jog, who was staring a stick, with a
half-finished head of Lord Brougham forahanclle, out of countenance.
" What for, Jog ? Why, can't you guess ? "
" No," replied Jog, doggedly.
" No ! " ejaculated his spouse. " Why, Jog, you certainly arc
the stupidest man in existence."
"Not necessarily ! " replied Jog, with a jerk of his head and a
puff into his shirt-frill that set it all in a flutter.
" Not necessarily ! " replied Mrs. Jogglebury, who was what
they call a " spirited woman," in the same rising tone as before.
" Not necessarily ! but I say necessarily — yes, necessarily. Do you
hear me, Mr. Jogglebury ? "
" I hear you," replied Jogglebury, scornfully, with another jerk,
and another puff into the frill.
MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 291
The two then sat silent for some minutes, Jogglebury still con-
templating the progressing head of Lord Brougham, and recalling
the eye and features that some five-and-twenty years before had
nearly withered him in a breach of promise action, " Smiler v. Jog-
glebury,"* that being our friend's name before his uncle Crowdey
left him his property.
Mrs. Jogglebury having an object in view, and knowing that,
though Jogglebury might lead, he would not drive, availed her-
self of the lull to trim her sail, to try and catch him on the other
tack.
" Well, Mr. Jogglebury Crowdey," said she, in a passive tone of
regret, " I certainly thought, however indifferent yon might be to
me " (and here she applied her handkerchief — rather a coarse one —
to her eyes) " that still you had some regard for the interests of
your (sob) children ; " and here the waterfalls of her beadey black
eyes went off in a gush.
" Well, my dear," replied Jogglebury, softened, " I'm (puff) sure
I'm (wheeze) anxious for my (puff) children. You don't s'pose if
I wasn't (puff), I'd (wheeze) labour as I (puff — wheeze) do to
leave them fortins ? " — alluding to his exertions in the gibbey-stick
line.
" Oh, Jog, I dare say you're very good, and very industrious,"
sobbed Mrs. Jogglebury, " but I sometimes (sob) think that you
might apply your (sob) energies to a better (sob) purpose."
" Indeed, my dear (puff), I don't see that (wheeze)," replied
Jogglebury, mildly.
" Why, now, if you were to try and get this rich Mr. Sponge
for a god-papa for Gustavus James," continued she, drying her
eyes as she came to the point, " that, I should say, would be worthy
of you."
" But, my (puff) dear," replied Jogglebury, " I don't know Mr.
(wheeze) Sponge, to begin with."
" That's nothing," replied Mrs. Jogglebury ; " he's a stranger,
and you should call upon him."
Mr. Jogglebury sat silent, still staring at Lord Brougham,
thinking how he pitched into him, and how sick he was when the
jury, without retiring from the box, gave five hundred pounds
damages against him.
" He's a fox-hunter, too," continued his wife ; " and you ought
to be civil to him."
" Well, but my (puff) dear, he's as likely to (wheeze) these fifty
years as any (puff, wheeze) man I ever looked at," replied
Jogglebury.
" Oh, nonsense," replied Mrs. Jogglebury ; " there's no saying
* Vide " Barnwell and Alclerson's Reports."
292 ME. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
when a fox-hunter may break his neck. My word ! but Mrs.
Slooman tells me pretty stories of Sloo's doings with the harriers —
jumping over hurdles, and everything that comes in the way, and
galloping along the stony lanes as if the wind was a snail compared
to his horse. I tell you, Jog, you should call on this gentle-
man "
" Well," replied Mr. Jogglebury.
" And ask him to come and stay here," continued Mrs. Joggle-
bury.
" Perhaps he mightn't like it (puff)," replied Jogglebury. " I
don't know that we could (puff) entertain him as he's (wheeze)
accustomed to be," added he.
" Oh, nonsense," replied Mrs. Jogglebury ; " we can entertain him
well enough. You always say fox-hunters are not ceremonious. I
tell you what, Jog, you don't think half enough of yourself. You
are far two easily set aside. My word ! but I know some people
who would give themselves pretty airs if their husband was chair-
man of a board of guardians, and trustee of I don't know how
many of Her Majesty's turnpike-roads," Mrs. Jog here thinking of
her sister Mrs. Springwheat, who, she used to say, had married a
mere farmer. " I tell you, Jog, you're far too humble, you don't
think half enough of yourself."
" Well, but, my (puff) dear, you don't (puff) consider that all
people ain't (puff; fond of (wheeze) children," observed Jogglebury,
after a pause. " Indeed, I've (puff) observed that some (wheeze)
don't like them."
" Oh, but those will be nasty little brats, like Mrs. James
Wakenshaw's, or Mrs. Tom Cheek's. But such children as ours I
such charmers ! such delights ! there isn't a man in the county,,
from the Lord-Lieutenant downwards, who wouldn't be proud —
who wouldn't think it a compliment — to be asked to be god-papa
to such children. I tell you what, Mr. Jogglebury Crowdey, it
would be far better to get them rich god-papas and god-mammas
than to leave them a whole house full of sticks."
"Well, but, my (puff) dear, the (wheeze) sticks will prove very
(wheeze) hereafter," replied Jogglebury, bridling up at the impu-
tation on his hobby.
" I hope so," replied Mrs. Jogglebury, in a tone of incredulity.
" Well, but, my (puff) dear, I (wheeze) you that they will be —
indeed (puff), I may (wheeze) say that they (puff) are. It was
only the other (puff) day that (wheeze) Patrick O'Fogo offered me
five-and-twenty (wheeze) shillings for my (puff) blackthorn Daniel
O'Connell, which is by no means so (puff) good as the (wheeze)
wild-cherry one, or, indeed, (puff) as the yew-tree one that I
(wheeze) out of Spankerley Park."
" I'd have taken it if I'd been you," observed Mrs. Jogglebury.
MB. SPONGE'S SPOBTING TOUB. 293
" But he's (puff) worth far more," retorted Jogglebury, angrily ;
" why (wheeze) Lurapleg offered me as much for Disraeli."
" Well, I'd have taken it, too," rejoined Mrs. Jogglebury.
"But I should have (wheeze) spoilt my (puff) set," replied the
gibbey-stick man. " S'pose any (wheeze) body was to (puff) oifer
me five guineas a (puff) piece for the (puff) pick of my (puff)
collection — my (puff) "Wellingtons, my (wheeze) Napoleons, my
(puff) Bvrons, my (wheeze) "Walter Scotts, my (puff) Lord Johns,
d'ye think I'd take it ? "
" I should hope so," replied Mrs. Jogglebury.
" I should (puff) do no such thing," snorted her husband into
his frill. "I should hope," continued he, speaking slowly and
solemnly, " that a (puff) wise ministry will purchase the whole (puff)
collection for a (wheeze) grateful nation, when the (wheeze) "
something " is no more (wheeze)." The concluding words being
lost in the emotion of the speaker (as the reporters say).
" "Well, but will you go and call on Mr. Sponge, dear? " asked
Mrs. Jogglebury Crowdey, anxious as well to turn the subject as
to make good her original point.
" Well, my dear, I've no objection," replied Joggle, wiping a
tear from the corner of his eye with his coat-cuff.
" That's a good soul ! " exclaimed Mrs. Jogglebury, soothingly.
" Go to-morrow, like a nice, sensible man."
" Very well," replied her now complacent spouse.
" And ask him to come here," continued she.
" I can't (puff) ask him to (puff) come, my dear (wheeze), until
he (puff — wheeze) returns my (puff) call."
" 0 fiddle," replied his wife, " you always say fox-hunters never
stand upon ceremony ; why should you stand upon any with
him?"
Mr. Jogglebury was posed, and sat silent.
294
MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
CHAPTER XLII.
THE DISCOMFITED DIPLOMATIST.
JOGGLEBURY S RETURN.
Well, then, as we said before, when one door shuts another
opens ; and just as Mr. Puffington's door was closing on poor Mr.
Sponge, who should cast up but our newly-introduced friend, Mr.
Jogcdebury Crowdey. Mr. Sponge was sitting in solitary state, in
the fine drawing-room, studying his old friend Mogg, calculating
what he could ride from Spur-street, Leicester-square, by Short's-
gardens, and across Waterloo-bridge, to the Elephant and Castle
for, when the grinding of a vehicle on the gravelled ring attracted
his attention. Looking out of the window, he saw a horse's
head in a faded-red silk-fronted bridle, with the letters " J. C." on
the winkers ; not J. C. writhing in the elegant contortions of
modern science, but " J. C." in the good, plain, matter-of-fact
characters we have depicted above.
" That'll be the doctor," said Mr. Sponge to himself, as he
resumed his reading and calculations, amidst a peal of the door-
MM. SPONGE'S SPOMTING TOUM. 295
bell, well calculated to arouse the whole house. " He's a good un
to ring ! " added he, looking up and wondering when the last
lingering tinkle would cease.
Before the fact was ascertained, there was a hurried tramp of
feet past the drawing-room door, and presently the entrance one
opened and let in — a rush of wind.
" Is Mr, Sponge at home ? " demanded a slow, pompous-speaking,
deep-toned voice, evidently from the vehicle.
" Yez-ur," was the immediate answer.
"«Who can that be ? " exclaimed Sponge, pocketing his Mogg.
Then there was a creaking of springs and a jingling against
iron steps, and presently a high-blowing, heavy-stepping body was
heard crossing the entrance-hall, while an out-stripping footman
announced Mr. Jogglebury Crowdey, leaving the owner to follow
his name at his leisure.
Mrs. Jogglebury had insisted on Jog putting on his new black
frock — a very long coat, fitting like a sack, with the well-filled
pockets bagging behind, like a poor man's dinner-wallet. In lieu
of the shrunk and darned white moleskins, receding in apparent
disgust from the dingy tops, he had got his nether man enveloped
in a pair of fine cinnamon-coloured tweeds, with broad blue stripes
down the sides, and shaped out over the clumsy foot.
Puff, wheeze, puff, he now came waddling and labouring along,
hat in hand, hurrying after the servant ; puff, wheeze, puff, and
he found himself in the room. "Your servant, sir," said he,
sticking himself out behind, and addressing Mr. Sponge, making
a ground sweep with his woolly hat.
" Yours" said Mr. Sponge, with a similar bow.
" Fine day (puff — wheeze)," observed Mr. Jogglebury, blowing
into his large frill.
" It is," replied Mr. Sponge ; adding, " won't you be seated ? "
" How's Puffington ? " gasped our visitor, sousing himself upon
one of the rosewood chairs in a way that threatened destruction to
the slender fabric.
" Oh, he's pretty middling, / should say," replied Sponge, now
making up his mind that he was addressing the doctor.
"Pretty middlin' (puff)," repeated Jogglebury, blowing into his
frill ; " pretty middlin' (wheeze) ; I s'pose that means he's got
a (puff) gumboil. My third (wheeze) girl, Margaret Henrietta,
has one."
" l)o you want to see him ? " asked Sponge, after a pause, which
seemed to indicate that his friend's conversation had come to a
period, or full stop.
" No," replied Jogglebury, unconcernedly. " No ; I'll leave a
(puff) card for him (wheeze)," added he, fumbling in his wallet
behind for his card-case. "My (puff) object is to pay my
29G MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
(wheeze) respects to you," observed he, drawing a great carved
Indian case from his pocket, and pulling off the top with a noise
like the drawing of a cork.
" Much obliged for the compliment," observed Mr. Sponge, as
Jogglebury fumbled and broke his nails in attempting to get a
card out.
" Do you stay long in this part of the world ? " asked he, as at
last he succeeded, and commenced tapping the corners of the card
on the table.
" I really don't know," replied Mr. Sponge, as the particulars of
his situation flashed across his mind. Could this pudding-headed
man be a chap Puffington had got to come and sound him, thought
he.
Jogglebury sat silent for a time, examining his feet attentively
as if to see they were pairs, and scrutinising the bags of his
cinnamon-coloured trousers.
" I was going to say (hem — cough — hem)," at length observed
he, looking up, " that's to say, I was thinking (hem — wheeze —
cough — hem), or rather I should say, Mrs. Jogglebury Crowdcy
sent me to say — I mean to say," continued he, stamping one of
his ponderous feet against the floor as if to force out his words.
" Mrs. Jogglebury Crowdey and I would be glad — happy, that's to
say (hem) — if you would arrange (hem) to (wheeze) pay us a visit
(hem)."
"Most happy, I'm sure !" exclaimed Mr. Sponge, jumping at
the offer.
"Before you go (hem)," continued our visitor, taking up the
sentence where Sponge had interrupted him ; " I (hem) live about
nine miles (hem) from here (hem)."
" Are there any hounds in your neighbourhood ? " asked Mr.
Sponge.
" Oh, yes," replied Mr. Jogglebury, slowly ; " Mr. Puffingt®n
here draws up to Greatacre Gorse within a few (ruff — wheeze)
miles — say, three (puff) — of my (wheeze) house ; and Sir Harry
Scattercash (puff) hunts all the (puff — wheeze) country below,
right aAvay down to the (puff — wheeze) sea."
" Well, you're a devilish good fellow ! " exclaimed Sponge ; "and
I'll tell you what, as I'm sure you mean what you say, I'll take
you at your word and go at once ; and that'll give our friend here
time to come round."
" Oh, but (puff— wheeze — gasp)," started Mr. Jogglebury, the
blood rushing to his great yellow, whiskerless cheeks, " I'm not
quite (gasp) sure that Mrs. (gasp) Jogglebury (puff) Crowdey
would be (puff — wheeze — gasp) prepared."
" Oh, hang preparation ! " interrupted Mr. Sponge. " I'll take
you as you are. Never mind me. I hate being made company of.
MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
297
Just treat me like one of yourselves ; toad-in-the-hole, dog-in-the-
blanket, beef-steaks and oyster-sauce, rabbits and onions— any-
thing ; nothing comes amiss to me."
So saying, and while Jogglebury sat purple and unable to
articulate, Mr. Sponge applied his hand to the ivory bell-knob and
MR. JOGGLEBURY INTRODUCING HIMSELF TO MR. SPONGE.
sounded an imposing peal. Mr. Jogglebury sat wondering what
was going to happen, and thinking what a wigging he would get
from Mrs. J. if he didn't manage to shake off his friend. Above
all, he recollected that they had nothing but haddocks and hashed
mutton for dinner.
" Tell Leather I want him," said Mr. Sponge, in a tone of
authority, as the footman answered the summons ; then, turning
298 MB. SPONGE'S SPOBTING TOUB.
to his guest, as the man was leaving the room, he said, " Won't
you take something after your drive — cold meat, glass of sherry,
soda-water, bottled porter — anything in that line ?"
In an ordinary way, Jogglebury would have said, " if you
please," at the sound of the words " cold meat," for he was a dead
hand at luncheon ; but the fix he was in completely took away his
appetite, and he sat wheezing and thinking whether to make
another effort, or to wait the arrival of Leather.
Presently Leather appeared, jean-jacketed and gaitered, smooth-
ing his hair over his forehead, after the manner of the brother-
hood.
" Leather," said Mr. Sponge, in the same tone of importance,
"I'm going to this gentleman's : " for as yet he had not sufficiently
mastered the name to be able to venture upon it in the owner's
presence. "Leather, I'm going to this gentleman's, and I want
you to bring me a horse over in the morning ; or stay," said he,
interrupting himself, and, turning to Jogglebury, he exclaimed,
" I dare say you could manage to put me up a couple of horses,
couldn't you ? and then we should be all cosy and jolly together,
you know."
" Ton my word," gasped Jogglebury, nearly choked by the
proposal ; " 'pon my word, I can hardly (puff) say, I hardly
(wheeze) know, but if you'll (puff — wheeze) allow me, I'll tell you
what I'll do : I'll (puff — wheeze) home, and see what I can (puff)
do in the way of entertainment for (puff — wheeze) man as well as
for (puff— wheeze) horse."
" Oh, thank you, my dear fellow ! " exclaimed Sponge, seeing
the intended dodge ; " thank you, my dear fellow ! " repeated he ;
"but that's giving you too much trouble — far too much trouble !
— couldn't think of such a thing — no, indeed, I couldn't. I'll
tell you what we'll do — TU tell you what we'll do. You shall drive
me over in that shandrydan-rattle-trap thing of yours " — Sponge
looking out of the window, as he spoke at the queer-shaped, jumped-
together, lack-lustre-looking vehicle, with a turnover seat behind,
now in charge of a pepper-and-salt attired youth, with a shabby
hat, looped up by a thin silver cord to an acorn on the crown, and
baggy Berlin gloves — " and I'll just see what there is in the way
of stabling ; and if I think it will do, then I'll give a boy sixpence
or a shilling to come over to Leather, here," jerking his head
towards his factotum ; " if it won't do, why then ■"
"We shall want three stalls, sir — recollect, sir," interrupted
Leather, who did not wish to move his quarters.
" True, I forgot," replied Sponge, with a frown at his ser-
vant's officiousness ; " however, if we can get two good stalls
for the hunters," said he, " we'll manage the hack somehow or
other."
Mil. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUE. 29a
" "Well," replied Mr. Leather, in a tone of resignation, knowing
how hopeless it was arguing with his master.
" I really think," gasped Mr. Jogglebary Crowdey, encouraged
by the apparent sympathy of the servant to make a last effort — " I
really think," repeated he, as the hashed mutton and haddocks
again flashed across his mind, " that my (puff — wheeze) plan is
the (puff) best ; let me (puff — wheeze) home and see how all (puff
— wheeze) things are, and then I'll write you a (puff — wheeze)
line, or send a (puff — wheeze) servant over."
" Oh, no," replied Mr. Sponge — " oh, no — that's far too much
trouble. I'll just go over with you now and reconnoitre."
" I'm afraid Mrs. (puff — wheeze) Crowdey will hardly be
prepared for (puff-— wheeze) visitors," ejaculated our friend,
recollecting it was washing-day, and that Mary Ann would be
wanted in the laundry.
" Don't mention it ! " exclaimed Mr. Sponge ; " don't mention
it. I hate to be made company of. Just give me what you have
yourselves — just give me what you have yourselves. "Where two
can dine, three can dine, you know."
Mr. Jogglebury Crowdey was nonplussed.
" Well, now," said Mr. Sponge, turning again to Leather ;
" just go up-stairs and help me to pack up my things ; and,"
addressing himself to our visitor he said, " perhaps you'll amuse
yourself with the paper — the Post — or I'll lend you my Mogg,"
continued he, offering the little gilt-lettered, purple-backed volume
as he spoke.
"Thank'ee," replied Mr. Jogglebury, who was still tapping
away at the card, which he had now worked very soft.
Mr. Sponge then left him with the volume in his hand, and
proceeded up-stairs to his bed-room.
In less than twenty minutes, the vehicle was got under way,
Mr. Jogglebury Crowdey and Mr. Sponge occupying the roomy
seats in front, and Bartholomew Badger, the before-mentioned
tiger, and Mr. Sponge's portmanteau and carpet-bag, being in the
very diminutive turnover seat behind. The carriage was followed
by the straining eyes of sundry Johns and Janes, who unanimously
agreed that Mr. Sponge was the meanest, shabbiest gent, they had
ever had in their house. Mr. Leather was, therefore, roasted in
the servants' hall, where the sins of the masters are oft visited
upon the servants.
But to our travellers.
Little conversation passed between our friends for the first few
miles, for, in addition to the road being rough, the driving-seat
was so high, and the other so low, that Mr. Jogglebury Crowdey's
parables broke against Mr. Sponge's hat-crown, instead of dropping
into his ear ; besides which, the unwilling host's mind was a good
300 MB. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR.
deal occupied with wishing that there had been three haddocks
instead of two, and speculating whether Mrs. Crowdey would be
more pleased at the success of his mission, or put out of her way
by Mr. Sponge's unexpected coming. Above all, he had marked
some very promising-looking sticks — two blackthorns and a holly
— to cut on his way home, and he was intent on not missing them.
So sudden was the jerk that announced his coming on the first
one, as nearly to throw the old family horse on his knees, and
almost to break Mr. Sponge's nose against the brass edge of the
cocked-up splash-board. Ere Mr. Sponge recovered his equi-
librium, the whip was in the case, the reins dangling about the
old screw's heels, and Mr. Crowdey scrambling up a steep bank to
where a very thick boundary-hedge shut out the view of the
adjacent country. Presently, chop, chop, chop, was heard, from
Mr. Crowdey's pocket axe, with a tug — wheeze — puff from him-
self ; next a crash of separation ; and then the purple-faced Mr.
Crowdey came bearing down the bank dragging a great blackthorn
bush after him.
" What have you got there ? " inquired Mr. Sponge, with
surprise.
" Got ! (wheeze — puff — wheeze)," replied Mr. Crowdey, pulling
up short, and mopping his perspiring brow with a great claret-
coloured bandana. " Got ! I've (puff — wheeze) got what I
(wheeze) think will (puff) into a most elaborate and (wheeze)
valuable walking-stick. This I (puff) think," continued he,
eyeing the great ball with which he had got it up, " will (wheeze)
come in most valuably (puff) for my great (putt- — wheeze — gasp)
national undertaking — the (puff) Kings and (wheeze) Queens of
Great Britain (gasp)."
"What are they?''' asked Mr. Sponge, astonished at his
vehemence.
" Oh ! (puff— wheeza — gasp) haven't you heard ? " exclaimed
Mr. Jogglcbury, taking off his great woolly hat, and giving his
lank, dark hair, streaked with grey, a sweep round his low forehead
with the bandana. "Oh! "(puff— gasp) haven't you heard?"
repeated he, getting a little more breath. " I'm (wheeze) under-
taking a series of (gasp) sticks, representing — (gasp) — immortalis-
ing, I may say (puff), all the (wheeze) crowned heads of England
(puff)."
" Indeed ! " replied Mr. Sponge.
"They'll be a most valuable collection (wheeze— puff)," con-
tinued Mr. Jogglebury, still eyeing the knob. " This," added he,
"shall be William the Fourth." He then commenced lopping
and docking the sides, making Bartholomew Badger bury them in
a sand-pit hard by, observing, in a confidential wheeze to Mr.
Sponge, " that he had once been county-courted for a similar
MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 301
trespass before." The top and lop being at length disposed of,
Mr. Crowdey, grasping the club-end, struck the other forcibly
against the ground, exclaiming, " There ! — there's a (puff) stick !
Who knows what that (pull" — wheeze) stick may be worth some
day ? "
He then bundled into his carriage and drove on.
Two more stoppages marked their arrival at the other sticks,
which being duly captured and fastened within the straps of the
carriage-apron, Mr. Crowdcy drove on somewhat more at ease in
his mind, at all events somewhat comforted at the thoughts of
having increased his wealth. He did not become talkative —
indeed that was not his forte, but he puffed into his shirt-frill, and
made a few observations, which, if they did not possess much
originality, at all events showed that he was not asleep.
" Those are draining-tiles," said he, after a hearty stare at a
cart-load. Then about five minutes after he blew again, and said,
"I don't think (puff) that (wheeze) draining without (gasp)
manuring will constitute good farming (puff)."
So he jolted and wheezed, and jerked and jagged the old
quadruped's mouth, occasionally hissing between his teeth, and
stamping against the bottom of the carriage, when other per-
suasive efforts failed to induce it to keep up the semblance of a
trot. At last the ill-supported hobble died out into a walk, and
Mr. Crowdey, complacently dropping his fat hand on his fat
knees, seemed to resign himself to his fate.
So they crawled along the up-and-downy piece of road below
Poplarton plantations, Mr. Jogglebury keeping a sharp eye upon
the underwood for sticks. After passing these, they commenced
the gradual ascent of Roundington Hill, when a sudden sweep of
the road brought them in view of the panorama of the rich Vale
of Butterflower.
" There's a snug-looking box," observed Sponge, as he at length
espied a confused jumble of gable-ends and chimney-pots, rising
from amidst a clump of Scotch firs and other trees, looking less
like a farm-house than anything he had seen.
" That's my liouse (puff) ; that's Puddingpote Bower (wheeze),"'
replied Crowdey, slowly and pompously, adding an " e " to the
syllable, to make it sound better, the haddocks, hashed mutton,
and all the horrors of impromptu hospitality rushing upon his
mind.
Things began to look worse the nearer he got home. He didn't
care to aggravate the old animal into a trot. He again wondered
whether Mrs. J. would be pleased at the success of his mission, or
angry at the unexpected coming.
" Where are the stables ? " asked Sponge, as he scanned the in-
and-out irregularities of the building.
302 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
" Stables (wheeze), stables (puff)," repeated Crowdey, thinking
of his troubles — of its being washing-day, and Mary Ann, or Murry
Ann, as he called her, the under-butler, being engaged ; of
Bartholomew Badger having the horse and fe-a-ton to clean, &c.
— "stables," repeated he for the third time ; "stables are at the
back, behind, in fact ; you'll see a (puff) vane — a (wheeze) fox, on
the top."
" Ah, indeed ! " replied Mr. Sponge, brightening up, thinking
there would be old hay and corn.
They now came to a half-Swiss, half-Gothic little cottage of a
lodge, and the old horse turned instinctively into the open white
gate with pea-green bands.
" Here's Mrs. Crow — Crow — Crowdey ! " gasped Jogglebury,
convulsively, as a tall woman, in flare-up red and yellow stunner
tartan, with a swarm of little children, similarly attired, suddenly
appeared at an angle of the road, the lady handling a great alpaca
umbrella-looking parasol in the stand-and-deliver style.
" What's kept you ? " exclaimed she, as the vehicle got within
ear-shot. " What's Icept you ? " repeated she, in a sharper key,
holding her parasol across the road, but taking no notice of our
friend Sponge, who, in truth, she took for Edgebone, the butcher.
" Oh ! you've been after your sticks, have you ? " added she, as
her spouse drew the vehicle up alongside of her, and she caught
the contents of the apron-straps.
"My dear (puff)" gasped her husband, "I've brought Mr.
(wheeze) Sponge," said he, winking his right eye, and jerking his
head over his left shoulder, looking very frightened all the time.
" Mr. (puff) Sponge, Mrs. (gasp) Jogglebury (wheeze) Crowdey,"
continued he, motioning with his hand.
Finding himself in the presence of his handsome hostess, Sponge
made her one of his best bows, and offered to resign his seat in the
carriage to her. This she declined, alleging that she had the
children with her — looking round on the grinning, gaping group,
the majority of them with their mouths smeared with lollipops.
Crowdey, who was not so stupid as he looked, was nettled at
Sponge's attempting to fix his wife upon him at such a critical
moment, and immediately retaliated with, " P'raps (puff) you'd
like to (puff) out and (wheeze) walk."
There was no help for this, and Sponge having alighted,
Mr. Crowdey said, half to Mr. Sponge and half to his fine wife,
" Then (puff — wheeze) I'll just (puff) on and get Mr. (wheeze)
Sponge's room ready." So saying, he gave the old nag a hearty
jerk with the bit, and two or three longitudinal cuts with the
knotty-pointed whip, and jingled away with a bevy of children
shouting, hanging on, and dragging behind, amidst exclamations
from Mrs. Crowdey, of " 0 Anna Maria ! Juliana Jane ! 0
ME. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
303
Frederick James, you naughty boy ! you'll spoil your new shoes !
Archibald John, you'll be kilt ! you'll be run over to a certainty.
0 Jogglebury, you inhuman man ! " continued she, running and
brandishing her alpaca parasol, " you'll run over your children !
you'll run over your children ! "
" My (puff) dear," replied Jogglebury, looking coolly over his
shoulder, " how can they be (wheeze) run over behind ? "
So saying, Jogglebury ground away at his leisure.
CHAPTER XLIII.
PUDDINGPOTE BOWER, THE SEAT OF JOGGLEBURY CROWDEY, ESQ.
"YOUR good
husband," ob-
served Mr.
Sponge as he
now overtook
his hostess
and proceeded
with her to-
wards the
house, " has
insisted upon
bringing me
over to spend
a few days till
my friend
Puffin gton re-
covers. He's
just got the
gout. I said
I was 'fraid
it mightn't be
quite conve-
nient to you,
but Mr. Crow-
dey assured
me you were
; and so I have
BARTHOLOMEW AND MUKKV ANN.
in the habit of receivin' fox-hunters at short notice
taken him at his word you see, and come."
Mrs. Jogglebury, who was still out of wind from her ran after
the carriage, assured him that she was extremely happy to see him,
304 MB. SPONGE'S SPOBTING TOUB.
though she couldn't help thinking what a noodle Jog was to hring
a stranger on a washing-day. That, however, was a point she
would reserve for Jog.
Just then a loud outburst from the children announced the
approach of the eighth wonder of the world, in the person of
Gustavus James in the nurse's arms, with a curly blue feather
nodding over his nose. Mrs. Jogglebury's black eyes brightened
with delight as she ran forward to meet him ; and in her mind's
eye she saw him inheriting a splendid mansion, with a retinue of
powdered footmen in pea-green liveries and broad gold-laced hats.
Great — prospectively great, at least — as had been her successes in
the sponsor line with her other children, she really thought, getting
Mr. Sponge for a god-papa for Gustavus James eclipsed all her
other doings.
Mr. Sponge, having been liberal in his admiration of the other
children, of course could not refuse unbounded applause to the
evident object of a mother's regards ; and, chucking the young
gentleman under his double chin, asked him how he was, and said
something about something he had in his " box," alluding to a
paper of cheap comfits he had bought at Sugarchalk's, the confec-
tioner's sale in Oxford-street, and which he carried about for
contingencies like the present. This pleased Mrs. Crowdey —
looking, as she thought, as if he had come predetermined to do
what she wanted. Amidst praises and stories of the prodigy, they
reached the house.
If a " hall " means a house with an entrance-" hall," Pudding-
pote Bower did not aspire to be one. A visitor dived, in medias res,
into the passage at once. In it stood an oak-cased family clock, and
a large glass-case, with an alarming-looking, stuffed tiger-like cat,
on an imitation marble slab. Underneath the slab, indeed all
about the passage, were scattered children's hats and caps, hoops,
tops, spades, and mutilated toys, — spotted horses without heads,
soldiers without arms, windmills without sails, and wheelbarrows
without wheels. In a corner were a bunch of " gibbies " in the
rough, and alongside the weather-glass hung Jog's formidable flail
of a hunting-whip.
Mr. Sponge found his portmanteau standing bolt upright in the
passage, with the bag alongside of it, just as they had been chucked
out of the phaeton by Bartholomew Badger, who having got orders
to put the horse right, and then to put himself right to wait at
dinner, Mr. Jogglebury proceeded to vociferate, —
" Murry Ann ! — Murry Ann ! " in such a way that Mary Ann
thought either that the cat had got young Crowdey, or the house
was on fire. " Oh ! Murry Ann ! " exclaimed Mr. Jogglebury, as
she came darting into the passage from the back settlements, up
to the elbows in soap-suds ; " I want you to (puff) up-stairs with
MR. SPONGE'S SPOBTING TOUR. 305
me, and help to get my (wheeze) gibbey-sticks out of the best
room ; there's a (puff) gentleman coming to (wheeze) here."
" 0, indeed, sir," replied Mary Ann, smiling, and dropping down
her sleeves — glad to find it was no worse.
They then proceeded up-stairs together.
All the gibbey-sticks were bundled out, both the finished ones,
that were varnished and laid away carefully in the wardrobe, and
those that were undergoing surgical treatment, in the way of twist -
ings,and bendings, and tyings in the closets. As they routed them
out of hole and corner, Jogglebury kept up a sort of running re-
commendation to mercy, mingled with an inquiry into the state of
the household affairs.
" Now (puff), Murry Ann ! " exclaimed he ; " take care you
•don't scratch that (puff) Franky Burdett," handing her a highly-
varnished oak stick, with the head of Sir Francis for a handle ;
" and how many (gasp) haddocks d'ye say there are in the
house ? "
" Three, sir," replied Mary Ann.
" Three ! " repeated he, with an emphasis. " I thought your
(gasp) missus told me there were but (puff) two ; and, Murry Ann,
you must put the new (puff) quilt on the (gasp) bed, and (puff)
just look under it (gasp) and you'll find the (puff) old Truro
rolled up in a dirty (puff) pocket hankercher ; and, Murry Ann,
d'ye think the new (wheeze) purtaters came that I bought of (pull)
Billy Bloxom ? If so, you'd better (puff) some for dinner, and get
the best (wheeze) decanters out ; and Murry Ann, there are two
gibbeys on the (puff) surbase at the back of the bed, which you
may as well (putf) away. Ah ! here he is," added Mr. Jogglebury,
as Mr. Sponge's voice rose now from the passage into the room
above.
Things now looked pretty promising. Mr. Sponge's attentions
to the children generally, and to Gustavus James in particular,
coupled with his free-and-easy mode of introducing himself, made
Mrs. Crowdey feel far more at her ease with regard to entertain-
ing him than she would have done if her neighbour, Mr. Make-
peace, or the Eev. Mr. Facey himself, had dropped in to take
" pot luck," as they called it. With either of these she would
have wished to appear as if their every-day form was more in
accordance with their company style, whereas Jog and she
wanted to get something out of Mr. Sponge, instead of electrify-
ing him with their grandeur. That GustavusJames was destined
for greatness she had not the least doubt. She began to think
whether it might not be advisable to call him Gustavus James
Sponge. Jog, too, was comforted, at hearing there were three
haddocks, fur though hospitably inclined he did not at all like the
idea of being on short commons himself. He had sufficient con-
COG MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUB.
fulencc in Mrs. Jogglebury's management — especially as the guest
was of her own seeking — to know that she would make up a
tolerable dinner.
Nor was he out of his reckoning, for at half-past five Bartholomew
announced dinner, when in sailed Mrs. Crowdey fresh from the
composition of it and from the becoming revision of her own dress.
Instead of the loose, flowing, gipsifieel, stunner tartan of the morn-
ing, she was attired in a close-fitting French grey silk, showing as
well the fulness and whiteness of her exquisite bust, as the beauti-
ful formation of her arms. Her raven hair was ably parted and
flattened on either side of her well-shaped head. Sponge felt proud
of the honour of having such a fine creature on his arm, and kicked
about in his tights more than usual.
The dinner, though it might show symptoms of hurry, was yet
plentiful and good of its kind ; and, if Bartholomew had not been
always getting in Murry Ann's way, would have been well set on
and served. Jog quaffed quantities of foaming bottled porter
during the progress of it, and threw himself back in his chair at
the end, as if thoroughly overcome with his exertions. Scarcely
were the wine and dessert set on, ere a violent outbreak in the
nursery caused Mrs. Crowdey to hurry away, leaving Mr. Sponge
to enjoy the company of her husband.
" You'll drink (puif) fox-hunting, I s'pose," observed Jog, after
a pause, helping himself to a bumper of port and passing the bottle
to Sponge.
" With all my heart," replied our hero, filling up.
" Fine (puff, wheeze) amusement," observed Mr. Crowdey, with
a yawn after another pause, and beating the devil's tattoo upon the-
table to keep himself awake.
" Very," replied Mr. Sponge, wondering how such a thick-winded
chap as Jog managed to partake of it.
" Fine (puff, wheeze) appetiser," observed Jogglebury, after
another pause.
" It is," replied Mr. Sponge.
Presently Jog began to snore, and as the increasing melody of
his nose gave little hopes of returning animation, Mr. Sponge had
recourse to his old friend " Mogg," and amidst speculations as to
time and distances, managed to finish the port. We will now pass
to the next morning.
Whatever deficiency there might be at dinner was amply atoned
for at breakfast, which was both good and abundant ; bread and
cake of all sorts, eggs, muffins, toast, honey, jellies, and preserves
without end. On the side-table was a dish of hot kidneys and a
magnificent red home-fed ham.
But a greater treat far, as Mrs. Jogglebury thought, was in the
guests set around. There were arranged all her tulips in succcs-
ME. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 307
sion, beginning with that greatest of all wonders, Gustavus James,
and running on with Anna Maria, Frederick John, Juliana Jane,
Margaret Henrietta, Sarah Amelia, down to Peter William, the
heir, who sat next his pa. These formed a close line on the
side of the table opposite the fire, that side being left for
Mr. Sponge. All the children had clean pinafores on, and their
hairs plastered according to nursery regulation. Mr. Sponge's
appearance was a signal for silence, and they all sat staring at him
in mute astonishment.
Baby, Gustavus James, did more ; for, after reconnoitring him
through a sort of lattice window formed of his fingers, he whined
out, " Who's that ogl-e-y man, ma ? " amidst the titter of the rest
of the line.
" Hush! my dear," exclaimed Mrs. Crowdey, hoping Mr. Sponge
hadn't heard. But Gustavus James was not to be put down,
and he renewed the charge as his mamma began pouring out the
tea.
" Send that ogl-e-y man away, ma!" whined he, in a louder tone,
at which all the children burst out a laughing.
"Baby (puff), Gustavus ! (wheeze)," exclaimed Jog, knocking
with the handle of his knife against the table, and frowning at the
prodigy.
" Well, pa, he is a ogl-e-y man," replied the child, amid the ill-
suppressed laughter of the rest.
" Ah, but what have / got ! " exclaimed Mr. Sponge, producing
a gaudily done-up paper of comfits from his pocket, opening and
distributing the unwholesome contents along the line, stopping the
orator's mouth first with a great, red-daubed, almond comfit.
Breakfast was then proceeded with without further difficulty.
As it drew to a close, and Mr. Sponge began nibbling at the sweets
instead of continuing his attack on the solids, Mrs. Jogglebury
began eyeing and telegraphing her husband.
" Jog, my dear," said she, looking significantly at him, and then
at the egg-stand, which still contained three eggs.
" Well, my dear," replied Jog, with a vacant stare, pretending
not to understand.
"You'd better cat them," said she, looking again at the eggs.
"I've (puff) breakfasted, my (wheeze) dear," replied Jog,
pompously, wiping his mouth on his claret-coloured bandana.
"They'll be wasted if you don't," replied Mrs. Jog.
" Well, but they'll be wasted if I cat them without (wheeze)
wanting them," rejoined he.
" Nonsense, Jog, you always say that," retorted his wife.
" Nonsense (puff), nonsense (wheeze), I say they tvill."
" I say they won't ! " replied Mrs. Jog ; " now will they, Mr.
Sponge ? " continued she, appealing to our friend.
x 2
308 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
" Why, no, not so much as if they went out," replied our friend,
thinking Mrs. Jog- was the one to side with.
"Then you'd better (puff, wheeze, gasp) eat them between you,"
replied Jog, getting up and strutting out of the room.
Presently he appeared in front of the house, crowned in a pea-
green wide-awake, with a half-finished gibbcy in his hand ; and as
Mr. Sponge did not want to offend him, and moreover wanted to
get his horses billeted on him, he presently made an excuse for
joining him.
Although Ins horses were standing "free gratis," as he called it,
at Mr. Piiilington's, and though he would have thought nothing of
making Mr. Leather come over with one each hunting morning,
still he felt that if the hounds were much on the other side of
Puddingpote Bower, it would not be so convenient as having them
there. Despite the egg controversy, he thought a judicious ap-
plication of soft sauder might accomplish what he wanted. At
all events, he would try.
Jog had brought himself short up, and was standing glowering
with his hands in his coat-pockets, as if he had never seen the
place before.
" Pretty look-out you have here, Mr. Jogglebury," observed Mr.
Sponge, joining him.
"Very," replied Jog, still cogitating the egg question, and
thinking he wouldn't have so many boiled, the next day.
" Alf yours ? " asked Sponge, waving his hand as he spoke.
"My (puff) ter-ri-tory goes up to those (wheeze) firs in the
grass-field on the hill," replied Jogglebury, pompously.
" Indeed," said Mr. Sponge, " they are fine trees ; " thinking
what a finish they would make for a steeple-chase.
" My (puff) uncle, Crowdey, planted those (wheeze) trees,"
observed Jog. " I observe," added he, " that it is easier to cut
down a (puff) tree than to make it (wheeze) again."
" I believe you're right," replied Mr. Sponge ; " that idea has
struck me very often."
" Has it ? " replied Jog, puffing voluminously into his frill.
Then they advanced a few paces, and, leaning on the iron
hurdles, commenced staring at the cows.
"Where are the stables?" at last asked Sponge, seeing no
inclination to move on the part of his host.
"Stables (wheeze) — stables (puff)," replied Jogglebury, recollect-
ing Sponge's previous day's proposal, — " stables (wheeze) are
behind," said he, "at the back there (puff); nothin' to see at them
(wheeze)."
" There'll be the horse you drove yesterday ; won't you go to see
how he is ? " asked Mr. Sponge.
MR. SPONGE'S SPOBTING TOUR. 309
'• Oh, sure to be well (puff) ; never nothing the matter with him
(wheeze)," replied Jogglebury.
"May as well see," rejoined Mr. Sponge, turning up a narrow
walk that seemed to lead to the back.
Jog followed doggedly. He had a good deal of John Bull in him,
and did not fancy being taken possession of in that sort of way ;
and thought, moreover, that Mr. Sponge had not behaved very
well in the matter of the egg controversy.
The stables certainly were nothing to boast of. They were in an
old rubble-stone, red-tiled building, without even the delicacy of a
ceiling. Nevertheless, there was plenty of room even after
Jogglebury had cut off one end for a cow-house.
"Why, you might hunt the country with all this stabling,"
observed Mr. Sponge, as he entered the low door. " One, two,
three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine. Nine stalls, I declare,"
added he, after counting them.
" My (puff) uncle used to (wheeze) a good deal of his own (puff)
land," replied Jogglebury.
" Ah, well, I'll tell you what : these stables will be much better
for being occupied," observed Mr. Sponge. "And I'll tell you
what I'll do for you."
" But they are occupied ! " gasped Jogglebury, convulsively.
" Only half," replied. Mr. Sponge ; "or a quarter, I may say —
not even that, indeed. I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll have my
horses over here, and you shall find them in straw in return for the
manure, and just charge me for hay and corn at market price, you
kuow. That'll make it all square and fair, and no obligation, you
know. I hate obligations," added he, eyeing Jog's disconcerted face.
" Oh, but (puff, wheeze, gasp) — " exclaimed Jogglebury, redden-
ing up — " I don't (puff) know that I can (gasp) that. I mean
(puff) that this (wheeze) stable is all the (gasp) 'commodation I
have ; and if we had (puff) company, or (gasp) anything of that
sort, I don't know where we should (wheeze) their horses,"
continued he. " Besides, I don't (puff, wheeze) know about the
market price of (gasp) corn. My (wheeze) tenant, Tom Hayrick,
at the (puff) farm on the (wheeze) hill yonder, supplies me with the
(puff) quantity I (wheeze) want, and we just (puff, wheeze, gasp)
settle once a (puff) half-year, or so."
"Ah, I see," replied Mr. Sponge ; "you mean to say you wouldn't
know how to strike the average so as to say what I ought to pay."
"Just so," rejoined Mr. Jogglebury, jumping at the idea.
" Ah, well," said Mr. Sponge, in a tone of indifference ; " it's no
great odds, — it's no great odds, — more the namccf the thing than
anything else ; one likes to be independent, you know, — one likes
to be independent ; but as I shan't be with you long, I'll just put
up with it for once, — I'll just put up with it for once, — and let you
310 ME. SPONGE'S SPOETING TOUE.
find me — and let you find me." So saying, he walked away, leaving
Jogglebury petrified at his impudence.
" That husband of yours is a monstrous good fellow," observed
Mr. Sponge to Mrs. Jogglebury, who he now met coming out with
her tail ; " he will insist on my having my horses over here, —
most liberal, handsome thing of him, I'm sure ; and that reminds
me, can you manage to put up my servant ? "
" I dare say we can," replied Mrs. Jogglebury, thoughtfully.
" He's not a very fine gentleman, is he?" asked she, knowing that
servants were often more difficult to please than their masters.
" Oh, not at all," replied Sponge ; " not at all, — wouldn't suit
me if he was, — wouldn't suit me if he was."
Just then up waddled Jogglebury, puffing and wheezing like a
stranded grampus ; the idea having just struck him that he might
get off on the plea of not having room for the servant.
" It's very unfortunate (wheeze), — that's to say, it never occurred
to me (puff), but I quite forgot (gasp) that we haven't (wheeze)
room for your (puff) servant."
" Ah, you are a good fellow," replied Mr. Sponge—" a devilish
good fellow. I was just telling Mrs. Jogglebury — wasn't I, Mrs.
Jogglebury ? — what an excellent fellow you are, and how kind
you'd been about the horses and corn, and all that Sort of thing,
when it occurred to me that it mightn't be convenient, p'raps, to
put up a servant ; but your wife assures me that it will ; so that
settles the matter, you know — that settles the matter, and I'll now
send for the horses forthwith."
Jog was utterly disconcerted, and didn't know which way to turn
for an excuse. Mrs. Jogglebury, though she would rather have
been without the establishment, did not like to peril Gustavus
James's prospects by appearing displeased ; so she smilingly said
she would see and do what they could.
Mr. Sponge then procured a messenger to take a note to Hanby
House, for Mr. Leather, and having written it, amused himself for
a time with his cigars and his " Mogg " in his bedroom, and then
turned out to see the stable got ready, and pick up any information
about the hounds, or anything else, from anybody he could lay hold
of. As luck would have it, he fell in with a groom travelling a
horse to hunt with Sir Harry Scattercash's hounds, which, he said,
met at Snobston Green, some eight or nine miles off, the next day,
and whither Mr. Sponge decided on going.
Mr. Jogglebury's equanimity returning at dinner time, Mr.
Sponge was persuasive enough to induce him to accompany him,
and it was finally arranged that Leather should go on with the
horses, and Jog should drive Sponge to cover in the phe-a-ton.
ME. SPONGE'S SPORTING 10UB.
;;il
CHAPTER XLIV.
A FAMILY BREAKFAST OX A HUNTING MORNING.
RS. JOGGLEBURY CROW-
DEY was a good deal discon-
certed at Gustavus James's
irreverence to his intended
godpapa, and did her best,
both by promises and en-
treaties, to bring him to a
more becoming state of mind.
She promised him abundance
of good things if he would
astonish Mr. Sponge with some
of his wonderful stories, and
expatiated on Mr. Sponge's
goodness in bringing him the
nice comfits, though Mrs.
Jogglebury could not but in
her heart blame them for some
it tie internal inconvenience
the wonder had experienced
during the night. However,
she brought him to breakfast
in pretty good form, where he
was cocked up in his high chair
beside his mamma, the rest of the infantry occupying the position
of the previous day, all under good-behaviour orders.
Unfortunately, Mr. Sponge, not having been able to get himself
up to his satisfaction, was late in coming down ; and when he did
make his appearance, the unusual sight of a man in a red coat, a
green tie, a blue vest, brown boots, &c, completely upset their pro-
priety, and deranged the order of the young gentleman's perform-
ance. Mr. Sponge, too, conscious that he was late, was more eager
for his breakfast than anxious to be astonished ; so, what with re-
pressing the demands of the youngster, watching that the others
did. not break loose, and getting Jog and Mr. Sponge what they
wanted, Mrs. Crowdey had her hands full. At last, having got
them set a-going, she took a lump of sugar out of the basin, and
snowing it to the wonder, laid it beside her plate, whispering
" Now, my beauty ! " into his ear, as she adjusted him in his
GUSTAVUS JAM.
312 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
chair. The child, who had been wound up like a musical snuff-
box, then went off as follows : —
"Bah, bah, back sheep, have 'ou any 'ool?
Ess, many, have I, three bags full ;
Un for ye master, un for ye dame,
Un for ye 'ittle boy 'ot 'uns about ye 'anc."
But, unfortunately, Mr. Sponge was busy with his breakfast, and
the prodigy wasted his sweetness on the desert air.
Mrs. Jogglebury, who had sat listening in ecstacies, saw the
offended eye and pouting lip of the boy, and attempted to make
up with exclamations of " That is a clever fellow ! That is a
wonder ! " at the same time showing him the sugar.
" A little more (puff) tea, my (wheeze) dear," said Jogglebury,
thrusting his great cup up the table.
" Hush I Jog, hush ! " exclaimed Mrs. Crowdey, holding up her
forefinger, and looking significantly first at him, and then at the
urchin.
" Now, ' Obin and Ichard,' my darling," continued she,
addressing herself coaxingly to Gustavus James.
" No, not ' Obin and Ichard,' " replied the child, peevishly.
" Yes, my darling, do, that's a treasure."
" Well, my (puff) darling, give me some (wheeze) tea,"
interposed Jogglebury, knocking with his knuckles on the table.
" Oh dear, Jog, you and your tea ! — you're always wanting tea,"
replied Mrs. Jogglebury, snappishly.
" Well, but my (puff) dear, you forget that Mr. (wheeze) Sponge
and I have to be at (puff) Snobston Green at a (wheeze) quarter to
eleven, and it's good twelve (gasp) miles off."
" Well, but it'll not take you long to get there," replied Mrs.
Jogglebury ; " will it, Mr. Sponge ? " continued she, again
appealing to our friend.
"Sure I don't know," replied Spouge, eating away; "Mr.
Crowdey finds conveyance — I only find company."
Mrs. Jogglebury Crowdey then prepared to pour her husband
out another cup of tea, and the musical snuff-box, being now left
to itself, went off of its own accord with, —
" Diddle, diddle, doubt,
My candle's out,
My 'ittle dame's not at 'ome—
So saddle my hog, and bridle my dog,
And briug my 'ittle dame 'ome."
A poem that in the original programme was intended to come in after
" Obin and Ichard," which was to be the chef-d' \mvre.
Mrs. Jog was delighted, and found herself pouring the tea into
the sugar-basin instead of into Jog's cup.
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 31$
Mr. Sponge, too, applauded. " Well, that was very clever,"
said he, filling bis mouth with cold ham. " ' Saddle my dog, and
bridle my hog' — I'll trouble you for another cup of tea,"'
addressing Mrs. Crowdey.
"No, not 'saddle my dog,' sil-l-e-y man ! " drawled the child,
making a pet lip ; " ' saddle my hog.' "
" Oh ! ' saddle my hog,' was it ? " replied Mr. Sponge, with
apparent surprise; "I thought it was 'saddle my dog.' I'll
trouble you for the sugar, Mrs. Jogglcbury ; " adding, " you have-
devilish good cream here ; how many cows have you ? "
" Cows (puff), cows (wheeze) ?" replied Jogglebury ; "how many
cows ? " repeated he.
" Oh, two, " replied Mrs. Jogglebury, tartly, vexed at the
interruption.
" Pardon me (puff)," replied Jogglebury, slowly and solemnly,
with a full blow into his frill ; " pardon me, Mrs. (puff) Joggle-
bury (wheeze) Crowdey, but there are three (wheeze)."
" Not in viillc, Jog — not in milk" retorted Mrs. Crowdey.
"Three cows, Mrs. (puff) Jogglebury (wheeze) Crowdey, not-
withstanding," rejoined our host.
" Well ; but when people talk of cream, and ask how many cows-
you have, they mean in milk, Mister Jogglebury Crowdey."
"Not necessarily, Mistress Jogglebury Crowdey," replied the
pertinacious Jog, with another heavy snort.
"Ah, now you're coming your fine poor-law guardian knowledge,"
rejoined his wife. Jog was chairman of the Stir-it-stiff Union.
While this was going on, young hopeful was sitting cocked up
in his high chair, evidently mortified at the want of attention.
Mrs. Crowdey saw how things were going, and, turning from
the cow question, endeavoured to re-engage him in his recitations.
"Now, my angel!" exclaimed she, again showing him the
sugar ; " tell us about ' Obin and Ichard.' "
"No — not 'Obin and Ichard,'" pouted the child.
" 0 yes, my sweet, do, that's a good child ; the gentleman in the
pretty coat, who gives baby the nice things, wants to hear it."
" Come, out with it, young man ! " exclaimed Mr. Sponge, now
putting a large piece of cold beef into his mouth.
" Not a 'ung man," muttered the child, bursting out a-cryingr
and extending his little fat arms to his mamma.
"No, my angel, not a 'ung man yet," replied Mrs. Jogglebury,
taking him out of the chair, and hugging him to her bosom.
" He'll be a man before his mother for all that," observed Mr-
Sponge, nothing disconcerted by the noise.
Jog had now finished his breakfast, and having pocketed three
buns and two pieces of toast, with a thick layer cf cold ham
between them, looked at his great warming-pan of a watch, and
314 MR. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUB.
said to his guost, " When you're (wheeze), I'm (puff)." So saying,
he got up, and gave his great legs one or two convulsive shakes,
as if to see that they were on.
Mrs. Jogglebury looked reproachfully at him, as much as to say,
" How can you behave so ? "
Mr. Sponge, as he eyed Jog's ill-made, quecrly put on garments,
wished that he had not desired Leather to go to the meet. It
would have been better to have got the horses a little way off, and
have shirked Jog, who did not look like a desirable introducer to
a hunting field.
" I'll be with you directly," replied Mr. Sponge, gulping down
the remains of his tea ; adding, " I've just got to run up-stairs and
get a cigar." So saying, he jumped up and disappeared.
Murry Ann, not approving of Sponge's smoking in his bedroom,
had hid the cigar-case under the toilet cover, at the back of the
glass, and it was some time before he found it.
Mrs. Jogglebury availed herself of the lapse of time, and his
absence, to pacify her young Turk, and try to coax him into
reciting the marvellous " Obin and Ichard."
As Mr. Sponge came clanking down stairs with the cigar-case
in his hand, she met him (accidentally, of course) at the bottom,
with the boy in her arms, and exclaimed, " 0 Mr. Sponge, here's
Gustavus James wants to tell you a little story."
Mr. Sponge stopped— inwardly hoping that it would not be a
long one.
"Now, my darling," said she, sticking the boy up straight to
get him to begin.
" Now then! " exclaimed Mr. Crowdey, in the true Jehu-like style,
from the vehicle at the door, in which he had composed himself.
" Coming, Jog ! coining ! " replied Mrs. Crowdey, with a frown
on her brow at the untimely interruption ; then appealing again
to the child, who was nestling in his mother's bosom, as if disin-
clined to show off, she said, " Now, my darling, let the gentleman
hear how nicely you'll say it."
The child st'ill slunk.
" That's a fine fellow, out with it ! " said Mr. Sponge, taking up
his hat to be off.
" Now then ! " exclaimed his host again.
" Coming ! " replied Mr. Sponge.
As if to thwart him, the child then began, Mrs. Jogglebury
holding up her forefinger as well in admiration as to keep
silence : —
" Obin and Ichard, two pretty men,
Lay in bed till 'e clock struck ten ;
Up starts Obin, and looks at the sky
And then the brat stopped.
MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUB. 015
"Very beautiful !" exclaimed Mr. Sponge ; "very beautiful ! One
of Moore's, isn't it? Thank you, my little clear, thank you," added
he, chucking him under the chin, and putting on his hat to be off.
"0, but stop, Mr. Sponge ! " exclaimed Mrs. Jogglebury, "you
haven't heard it all — there's more yet."
Then turning to the child, she thus attempted to give him the cue.
" 0, ho ! bother "
" Now then ! time's Imp I " again shouted Jogglebury into the
passage.
" 6 dear, Mr. Jogglebury, will you hold your stoopid tongue ! "
exclaimed she ; adding, " you certainly are the most tiresome man
under the sun." She then turned to the child with —
" 0 ho ! bother I chard " again.
But the child was mute, and Mr. Sponge fearing, from some
indistinct growlings that proceeded from the carriage, that a
storm was brewing, endeavoured to cut short the entertainment
by exclaiming —
" Wonderful two-year-old ! Pity he's not in the Darby. Dare
say he'll tell me the rest when I come back."
But this only added fuel to the fire of Mrs. Jogglebury's ardour,
and made her more anxious that Sponge should not lose a word
of it. Accordingly she gave the fat dumpling another jerk up on
her arm, and repeated —
" 0 ho ! bother Ichard, the What's very high ? " asked
Mrs. Jogglebury, coaxingly.
" Sun's very high,"
replied the child.
" Yes, my darling ! " exclaimed the delighted mamma.
Mrs. Jogglebury then proceeded with —
" Ou go before "
Child.—" With bottle and bag,"
Mamma. — "And I'll follow after "
Child.— " With 'ittle Jack Nag,"
"Well now, that is wonderful !" exclaimed Mr. Sponge, hurrying
en his dog-skin gloves, and wishing both Obin and Ichard further.
"Isn't it!" exclaimed Mrs. Jogglebury, in ecstasies; then
addressing the child, she said, "Now that is a good boy — that is
a fine fellow. Now couldn't he say it all over by himself, doesn't
he think ? " Mrs. Jogglebury looking at Mr. Sponge, as if she
was meditating the richest possible treat for him.
" Oh," replied Mr. Sponge, quite tired of the detention, " he'll
tell me it when I return — he'll tell me it when I return," at the
same time giving the child another parting chuck under the chin.
But the child was not to be put off in that way, and instead of
316 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
crouching, and nestling, and hiding its face, it looked up quite
boldly, and alter a little hesitation went through "Ohin and Ichard,"
to the delight of Mrs. Jogglebury, the mortification of Sponge, and
the growling denunciations of old Jog, who still kept his place in
the vehicle. Mr. Sponge could not but stay the poem out.
At last they got started, Jog driving, Sponge occupying the low
seat, Jog's flail and Sponge's cane whip-stick stuck in the straps
of the apron. Jog was very crusty at first, and did little but whip
and flog the old horse, and puff and growl about being late, keeping
people waiting, over-driving the horse, and so on.
" Have a cigar ? " at last asked Sponge, opening the well-filled
case, and tendering that olive-branch to his companion.
" Cigar (wheeze), cigar (puff) ? " replied Jog, eyeing the case ;
" why, no, p'raps not, I think (wheeze), thank'c."
" Do you never smoke ? " asked Sponge.
" (Puff — wheeze) Not often," replied Jogglebury, looking
about him with an air of indifference. He did not like to say no,,
because Springwheat smoked, though Mrs. Springey highly dis-
approved of it.
" You'll find them very mild," observed Sponge, taking one out
for himself, and again tendering the case to his friend.
" Mild (wheeze), mild (puff), are they ?" said Jog, thinking he-
would try one.
Mr. Sponge then struck a light, and, getting his own cigar well
under way, lit one for his friend, and presented it to him. They
then went puffing, and whipping, and smoking in silence. Jog
spoke first.
" Fm going to he (puff) side" observed he, slowly and solemnly.
" Hope not," replied Mr. Sponge, with a hearty whiff up into
the air.
" I am going to be (puff) sick," observed Jog, after another pause.
" Be sick on your own side, then," replied Sponge, with another
hearty whiff.
" By the (puff) powers ! I am (puff) sick ! " exclaimed Joggle-
bury, after another pause, and throwing away the cigar. " Oh,
dear I" exclaimed he, "you shouldn't have given me that nasty
(puff) thing."
"My dear fellow, I didn't know it would make you sick,"
replied Mr. Sponge
" Well, but (puff) if they (wheeze) other people sick, in all (puff)
probability they'll (wheeze) me. There 1 " exclaimed he, pulling
up again.
The delays occasioned by these catastrophes, together with the
time lost by " Obin and Ichard," threw our sportsmen out con-
siderably. When they reached Chalkerley-gate it wanted ten
minutes to eleven, and they had still three miles to go.
MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUli. 317
" We shall be late," observed Sponge, inwardly denouncing
" Obin and Ichard."
" Shouldn't wonder," replied Jog, adding, with a puff into his
frill, " consequence of making me sick, you see."
" My dear fellow, if you don't know your own stomach by this
time, you did ought to do," replied Mr. Sponge.
" I (puff) flatter myself I do (wheeze) my own stomach," replied
Jogglebury, tartly.
They then rumbled on for some time in silence.
"When they came within sight of Snobston Green, the coast was
■clear. Not a red coat, or hunting indication of any sort, was to
be seen.
" I told you so (puff) ! " growled Jog, blowing full into his frill,
and pulling up short.
" They be gone to Hackberry Dean," said an old man, breaking
■stones by the road-side.
" Hackberry Dean (puff)— Hackberry Dean (wheeze) ! " replied
Jog, thoughtfully ; " then we must (puff) by Tollarton Mill, and
through the (wheeze) village to Stewley ? "
" Y-c-a-z," drawled the man.
Jog then drove on a few paces, and turned up a lane to the left,
whose finger-post directed the road " to Tollarton." He seemed
less disconcerted than Sponge, who kept inwardly anathematising,
not only uObin and Ichard," but " Diddle, diddle, doubt,"—" Bah,
hah, black sheep," — the whole tribe of nursery ballads, in short.
The fact was, Jog wanted to be into Hackberry Dean, which
was full of fine, straight hollies, fit either for gibbeys or whip-
sticks, and the hounds being there gave him the entree. It was
for helping himself there, without this excuse, that he had been
"" county courted," and he did not care to renew his acquaintance
with the judge. He now whipped and jagged the old nag, as if
intent on catching the hounds. Mr. Sponge liberated his whip
from the apron-straps, and lent a hand when Jog began to flag.
So they rattled and jingled away at an amended pace. Still it
seemed to Mr. Sponge as if they would never get there. Having
passed through Tollarton, and cleared the village of Stewley, Mr.
Sponge strained his eyes in every direction where there was" a bit
-of wrood, in hopes of seeing something of the hounds. Meanwhile
Jog was shuffling his little axe from below the cushion of the
driving-seat into the pocket of his great coat. All of a sudden he
pulled up, as they were passing a bank of wood (Hackberry Dean),
and handing the reins to his companion, said,
" Just lay hold for a minute whilst I (puff) out."
" What's happened ? " asked Sponge. " Not sick again, are you ? '
" No (puff), not exactly (wheeze) sick, but I want to be out all
•the (puff) same."
S18 MB. SPONGE'S SPOBTING TOUB.
So saying, out he bandied, and crushing through the fern-grown
woodbiney" fence, darted into the wood in a way that astonished
our hero. Presently the chop, chop, chop of the axe revealed the
mystery.
'* By the powers, the fool's at his sticks ! " exclaimed Sponge,
disgusted at the contretemps. " Mister Jogglebury ! " roared he,
"Mister Jogglebury, we shall never catch up the hounds at this
rate ! "
Cut Jog was deaf — chop, chop, chop was all the answer Mr.
Sponge got.
" Well, hang me if ever I saw such a fellow ! " continued Sponge,
thinking he would drive on if he only knew the way.
" Chop, chop, chop," continued the axe.
"Mister Jogglebury! Mister Jogglebury Crowdey a-hooi ! "
roared Sponge, at the top of his voice.
The axe stopped. "Anybody comin' ? " resounded from the wood.
" You come" replied Mr. Sponge.
" Presently," was the answer ; and the chop, chop, chopping was
resumed.
"The man's mad," muttered Mr. Sponge, throwing himself
back in the seat.
At length Jog appeared brushing and tearing his way out of
the wood, with two fine hollies under his arm. He was running
down with perspiration, and looked anxiously up and down the
road as he blundered through the fence to see if there was any
one coming.
" I really think (puff) this will make a four-in-hander (wheeze),"
exclaimed he, as he advanced towards the carriage, holding a.
holly so as to show its full length — " not that I (puff, wheeze,
gasp) do much in that (puff, wheeze) line, but really it is such a
(puff, wheeze) beauty that I couldn't (puff, wheeze, gasp) resist it."
" Well, but I thought we were going to hunt," observed Mr.
Sponge, drily.
" Hunt (puff) ! so we are (wheeze) ; but there are no hounds
(gasp). My good (puff) man," continued he, addressing a smock-
frocked countryman, who now came up, " have you seen anything
of the (wheeze) hounds ? "
" E-e-s," replied the man. " They be gone to Brookdale
Plantin'."
" Then we'd better (puff) after them," said Jog, running the
stick through the apron-straps, and bundling into the phaeton
with the long one in his hand.
Away they rattled and jingled as before.
" How far is it ? " asked Mr. Sponge, vexed at the detention.
" Oh (puff) close by (wheeze)," replied Jog.
" Close by," as most of our sporting readers well know to their
ME. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 31!>
cost, is generally anything but close by. Nor was Jog's close by,
close by on this occasion.
" There," said Jog, after they had got crawled up Trampington
Hill ; " that's it (putt) to the right, by the (wheeze) water
there," pointing to a plantation about a mile olr", with a pond
shining at the end.
Just as Mr. Sponge caught view of the water, the twang of a
horn was heard, and the hounds came pouring, full cry, out of
cover, followed by about twenty variously-clad horsemen, and our
friend had the satisfaction of seeing them run clean out of sight,
over as fine a country as ever was crossed. Worst of all, he
thought he saw Leather pounding away on the chestnut.
CHAPTER XLV.
HUNTING THE HOUNDS.
Trampington Hill, whose summit they had just reached a?
the hounds broke cover, commanded an extensive view over the
adjoining vale, and, as Mr. Sponge sat shading his eyes with his
hands from a bright wintry sun, he thought he saw them come to
a check, and afterwards bend to the left.
" I really think," said he, addressing his still perspiring com-
panion, " that if you were to make for that road on the left,"
(pointing one out as seen between the low hedge-rows in the
distance) " we might catch them up yet."
"Left (puff), left (wheeze) ? " replied Mr. Jogglebury Crowdey,
staring about with anything but the quickness that marked his
movements when he dived into Hackberry Dean.
" Don't you see," asked Sponge, tartly, "there's a road by the
corn-stacks yonder ? " pointing them out.
"I see," replied Jogglebury, blowing freely into his shirt-frill.
"I see," repeated he, staring that way; "but I think (puff)
that's a mere (wheeze) occupation road, leading to (gasp) no-
where."
" Never mind, let's try ! " exclaimed Mr. Sponge, giving the
rein a jerk, to get the horse into motion again ; adding, " it's no
use sitting here, you know, like a couple of fools, when the hounds
are running."
"Couple of (puff) ! " growled Jog, not liking the appellation,
and wishing to be home with the long holly. " I don't see any-
thing (wheeze) foolish in the (puff) business."
" There they are I " exclaimed Mr. Sponge, who had kept his
eye on the spot he last viewed them, and now saw the horsemen
320 MB. SPONGE'S SPOBTING TOUB.
ititt-up-ing across a grass field in the easy way that distance makes
very uneasy riding look. " Out along ! " exclaimed he, laying into
■the horse's hind-quarters with his hunting-whip.
"Don't! the horse is (puff) tired," retorted Jog, angrily, hold-
ing the horse, instead of letting him go to Sponge's salute.
" Not a bit on't ! " exclaimed Sponge ; "fresh as paint ! Spring
Jrim a bit, that's a good fellow ! " added he.
Jog didn't fancy being dictated to in this way, and just crawled
along at his own pace, some six miles an hour, his dull phlegmatic
face contrasting with the eager excitement of Mr. Sponge's coun-
tenance. If it had not been that Jog wanted to see that Leather
did not play any tricks with his horse, he would not have gone a
yard to please Mr. Sponge. Jog might, however, have been easy
on that score, for Leather had just buckled the curb-rein of the
horse's bridle round a tree in the plantations where they found
him, and the animal, being used to this sort of work, had fallen-to
quite contentedly upon the grass within reach.
Bilkington Pike now appeared in view, and Jog drew in as he
spied it. He knew the damage : sixpence for carriages, and he
•doubted that Sponge would pay it.
" It's no use going any (wheeze) further," observed he, drawing
up into a walk, as he eyed the red-brick gable end of the toll-house,
and the formidable white gate across the road.
Tom Coppers had heard the hounds, and, knowing the hurry
sportsmen are often in, had taken the precaution to lock the gate.
" Just a leetle further ! " exclaimed Mr. Sponge, soothingly,
whose anxiety in looking after the hounds had prevented his
seeing this formidable impediment. " If you would just drive up
to that farm-house on the hill," pointing to one about half a mile
off, " I think we should be able to decide whether itfs worth going
on or not."
"Well (puff), well (wheeze), well (gasp)," pondered Jogglebury,
still staring at the gate, " if you (puff) think it's worth (wheeze)
while going through the (gasp) gate," nodding towardsitas he spoke.
" Oh, never mind the gate," replied Mr. Sponge, with an osten-
tatious dive into his breeches pocket, as if he was going to pay it.
He kept his hand in his pocket till he came close up to the gate,
-when, suddenly drawing it out, he said —
" Oh, hang it ! I've left my purse at home ! Never mind, drive
-on," said he to his host ; exclaiming to the man, " it's Mr.
Crowdey's carriage — Mr. Jogglebury Crowdey's carriage ! Mr.
€rowdey, the chairman of the Stir-it-stiff Poor-Law Union ! "
"Sixpence!"" shouted the man, following the phaeton with
outstretched hand.
"Ord, hang it (puff)! I could have done that (wheeze),"
-growled Jogglebury, pulling up.
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 321
" You harn'l got no ticket," said Coppers, coming up, "and
ain't a-goin' to not never no meetin' o' trustees, are you ? " asked
lie, seeing the importance of the person with whom he had to
deal ; — a trustee of that and other roads, and one who always
availed himself of his privilege of going to the meetings toll-free.
"No," replied Jog, pompously handing Sponge the whip and reins.
He then rose deliberately from his seat, and slowly unbuttoned
each particular button of the brown great-coat he had over the
tight black hunting one. He then unbuttoned the black, and
next the right-hand pocket of the white moleskins, in which he
carried his money. He then deliberately fished up his green-and-
gold purse, a souvenir of Miss Smiler (the plaintiff in the breach-
of-promise action, Smiler v. Jogglebury), and holding it with both
hands before his eyes, to see which end contained the silver, he
slowly drew the slide, and took out a shilling, though there were
plenty of sixpences in.
This gave the man an errand into the toll-house to get one, and,
by way of marking his attention, when he returned he said, in the
negative way that country people put a question —
" You'll not need a ticket, will you ? "
" Ticket (puff), ticket (wheeze) ? " repeated Jog, thoughtfully.
" Yes, I'll take a ticket," said he.
" Oh ! hang it no," replied Sponge ; " let's get on ! " stamping
against the bottom of the phaeton to set the horse a-going.
" Costs nothin'," observed Jog, dryly, drawing the reins, as the
man again returned to the gate-house.
A considerable delay then took place ; first, Pikey had to find
his glasses, as he called his spectacles, to look out a one-horse-
chaise ticket. Then he had to look out the tickets, when he found
he had all sorts except a one-horse-chaise one ready — waggons,
hearses, mourning-coaches, saddle-horses, chaises and pair, mules,
asses, every sort but the one that was wanted. Well, then he had
to fill one up, and to do this he had, first, to find the ink-horn,
and then a pen that would " mark," so that, altogether, a delay
took place that would have been peculiarly edifying to a Kenning-
ton Common or Lambeth gate-keeper to witness.
But it was not all over yet. Having got the ticket, Jog
examined it, minutely, to see that it was all right, then held it to
his nose to smell it, and ultimately drew the purse slide, and
deposited it amongst the sovereigns. He then restored that
expensive trophy to his pocket, shook his leg, to send it down,
then buttoned the pocket, and took the tight black coat with both
hands and dragged it across his chest, so as to get his stomach in.
He then gasped and held his breath, making himself as small as
possible, Avhile he coaxed the buttons into the holes ; and that
difficult process being at length accomplished, he stood still awhile
Y
322 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUIi.
to take breath after the exertion. Then he began to rebutton the
easy, brown great-coat, going deliberately up the whole series, from
the small button below, to keep the laps together, up to the one on
the neck, or where the neck would have been if Jog had not been
all stomach up to the chin. He then soused himself into his seat,
and, snorting heavily through his nostrils, took the reins and whip
and long holly from Mr. Sponge, and drove leisurely on. Sponge
sat anathematising his slowness.
When they reached the farm-house on the hill the hounds were
fairly in view. The huntsman was casting them, and the horse-
men were grouped about as usual, while the laggers were stealing
quietly up the lanes and bye-roads, thinking nobody would see
them. Save the whites or the greys, our friends in the " chay "
were not sufficiently near to descry the colours of the horses ; but
Mr. Sponge could not help thinking that he recognized the outline
of the wicked chestnut, Multum in Parvo.
" By the powers, but if it is him," muttered he to himself,
clenching his fist and grinding his teeth as he spoke ; " but I'll —
I'll — I'll make sick an example of you," meaning of Leather.
Mr. Sponge could not exactly say what he would do, for it was
by no means a settled point whether Leather or he were master.
But to the hounds. If it had not been for Mr. Sponge's shabbi-
ness at the turnpike -gate, we really believe he might now have
caught them up, for the road to them was down hill all the way,
and the impetus of the vehicle would have sent the old screw
along. That delay, however, was fatal. Before they had gone a
quarter of the distance the hounds suddenly struck the scent at a
hedge-row, and. with heads up and sterns down, went straight
away at a pace that annihilated all hope. They were out of sight
in a minute. It was clearly a case of kill.
"Well, there's a go !" exclaimed Mr. Sponge, folding his arms,
and throwing himself back in the phaeton in disgust. " I think
I never saw such a mess as we've made this morning."
And he looked at the stick in the apron, and the long holly
between Jog's legs, and longed to lay them about his great back.
"Well (puff), I s'pose (wheeze) we may as well (puff) home
now ? " observed Jog, looking about him quite unconcernedly.
" I think so," snapped Sponge ; adding, " we've done it for once,
iit all events."
The observation, however, was lost upon Jog, whose mind was
occupied with thinking how to get the phaeton round without upset-
ting. The road was narrow at best, and the newly-laid stone-heaps
had encroached upon its bounds. He first tried to back between two
stone-heaps, but only succeeded in running a wheel into one ; he
then tried the forward tack, with no better success, till Mr. Sponge
seeing matters were getting worse, just jumped out, and taking
MB. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR. 323
the old horse by the head, executed the manoeuvre that Mr.
Jogglebury Crowdey first attempted. They then commenced
retracing their steps, rather a long trail, even for people in an
amiable mood, but a terribly long one for disagreeing ones.
Jog, to be sure, was pretty comfortable. He had got all he
wanted — all he went out a-hunting for ; and as he hissed and
jerked the old horse along, he kept casting an eye at the contents
of the apron, thinking what crowned, or great man's head, the
now rough, club-headed knobs should be fashioned to represent ;
and indulged in speculations as to their prospective worth and
possible destination. He had not the slightest doubt that a
thousand sticks to each of his children would be as good as a
couple of thousand pounds a-piece ; sometimes he thought more,
but never less. Mr. Sponge, on the other hand, brooded over the
loss of the run ; indulged in all sorts of speculations as to the
splendour of the affair ; pictured the figure he would have cut on
the chestnut, and the price he might have got for him in the field.
Then he thought of the bucketing Leather would give him ; the
way he would ram him at everything : how he Avould let him go
with a slack rein in the deep — very likely making him overreach
— nay, there was no saying but he might stake him.
Then he thought over all the misfortunes and mishaps of the
day. The unpropitious toilet ; the aggravation of " Obin and
Ichard ;" the delay caused by Jog being sick with his cigar ; the
divergence into Hackberry Dean ; and the long protracted wait
at the toll-bar. Keviewing all the circumstances fairly and
dispassionately, Mr. Sponge came to the determination of having
nothing more to do with Mr. Jogglebury Crowdey in the hunting-
way. These, or similar cogitations and resolutions were, at length,
interrupted by their arriving at home, as denoted by an outburst of
children rushing from the lodge to receive them, — Gustavus James,
in his nurse's arms, bringing up the rear, to whom our friend
could hardly raise the semblance of a smile.
It was all that little brat ! thought he.
324
MB. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR.
CHAPTER XL VI.
COUNTRY QUARTERS.
IR HARRY
SCATTER-
CASH'S were
only an ill-
supported
pack of
hounds ; they
were not kept
upon any
fixed princi-
ples. We do
not mean to-
say that they
had not plenty
to eat, but
their manage-
ment was only
of the scrim-
maging order.
Sir Harry was
what is techni-
cally called,
"going it."
Like our noble
friend, Lord
Hardup, now Earl of Scamperdale, he had worked through
the morning of life without knowing what it was to be troubled
with money ; but, unlike his lordship, now that he had
unexpectedly come into some, he seemed bent upon trying how
fast he could get through it. In this laudable endeavour he was
ably assisted by Lady Scattercash, lately the lovely and elegant
Miss Spangles, of the " Theatre Royal, Sadler's Wells." ' Sir-
Harry had married her before his windfall made him a baronet,
having, at the time, some intention of trying his luck on the
stage, but he always declared that he never regretted his choice ;
on the contrary, he said, if he had gone among the " duchesses,"
he could not have suited himself better. Lady Scattercash could
ride — indeed, she used to do scenes in the circle (two horses and a
flag) — and she could drive, and smoke, and sing, and was
LADY SCATTERCASH.
MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUB. 325
possessed of many other accomplishments. Sir Harry would
sometimes drink straight an end for a week, and then not taste
wine again for a month ; sometimes the hounds hunted, and
sometimes they did not ; sometimes they were advertised, and
sometimes they were not ; sometimes they went out on one day,
and sometimes on another ; sometimes they were fixed to be at such
a place, and went to quite a different one. When Sir Harry was
on a drinking-bout, they were shut up altogether ; and the huntsman,
Tom Watchorn, late of the " Camberwell and Balharn Hill Union
Harriers," an early acquaintance of Miss Spangles — indeed, some
said he was her uncle — used to go away on a drinking excursion
too. Altogether, they were what the country people called a very
" promiscuous set." The hounds were of all sorts and sizes ; the
horses cf no particular stamp ; and the men scamps and vagabonds
of the first class.
With such a master and such an establishment, wo need hardly
say that no stranger ever came into the country for the purpose of
hunting. Sir Harry's fields were entirely composed of his own
choice " set," and a few farmers, and people whom he could abuse
and do what he liked with. Mr. Jogglebury Crowdey, to be sure,
had mentioned Sir Harry approvingly, when he went to Mr. Puffing-
ton's, to inveigle Mr. Sponge over to Puddingpote Bower ; but
what might suit Mr. Jogglebury, who went out to seek gibbey
sticks, might not suit a person who went out for the purpose of
hunting a fox in order to show off and sell his horses. In fact,
Puddingpote Bower was an exceedingly bad hunting quarter, as
things turned out. Sir Harry Scattercash, having had the run
described in our two preceding chapters, and having just imported
a few of the " sock-and-buskin " sort from town, was not likely
to be going out again for a time ; while Mr. Puffington, finding
where Mr. Sponge had taken refuge, determined not to meet
within reach of Puddingpote Bower, if he could possibly help it ;
and Lord Scamperdale was almost always beyond distance, unless
horse and rider lay out over-night — a proceeding always deprecated
by prudent sportsmen. Mr. Sponge, therefore, got more of Mr.
Jogglebury Crowdey's company than he wanted, and Mr.
Crowdey got more of Mr. Sponge's than he desired. In vain Jog
took him up into his attics and his closets, and his various holes
and corners, and showed him his enormous crop of sticks — some
tied in sheaves, like corn ; some put up more sparingly ; and
others, again, wrapped in silver paper, with their valuable heads
enveloped in old gloves. Jog would untie the strings of these, and
placing the heads in the most favourable position before our friend,
just as an artist would a portrait, question him as to whom he
thought they Avere.
" There, now (puff)," said he, holding up one that he thought
32G MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
there could be no mistake about ; " who do you (wheeze) that
is ? "
" Deaf Burke," replied Mr. Sponge, after a stare.
" Deaf Barlce ! (puff)," replied Jog, indignantly.
" Who is it, then ? " asked Mr. Sponge.
" Can't you see ? (wheeze)," replied J og, tartly.
" No," replied Sponge, after another examination. " It's not
Scroggins is it ? "
" Napoleon (puff) Bonaparte," replied Jog, with great dignity,
returning the head to the glove.
He showed several others, with little better success, Mr. Sponge
seeming rather to take a pleasure in finding ridiculous likenesses,
instead of helping his host out in his conceits. The stick-mania
was a failure, as far as Mr. Sponge was concerned. Neither were
the peregrinations about the farms, or ter-ri-to-ry, as Jog called
his estate, more successful ; a man's estate, like his children, being
seldom of much interest to any but himself.
Jog and Sponge were soon most heartily sick of each other.
Nor did Mrs. Jog's charms, nor the voluble enunciation of " Obin
and Ichard," followed by " Bah, bah, black sheep," &c, from thai,
wonderful boy, Gustavus James, mend matters ; for the young
rogue having been in Mr. Sponge's room while Murry Ann was
doing it out, had torn the back off Sponge's " Mogg," and made
such a mess of his tooth-brush, by cleaning his shoes with it, as
never was seen.
Mr. Sponge soon began to think it was not worth while staying
at Puddingpote Bower for the mere sake of his keep, seeing there
was no hunting to be had from it, and it did not do to keep hack
hunters idle, especially in open weather. Leather and he, for once,
were of the same opinion, and that worthy shook his head, and
said Mr. Crowdey was "awful mean," at the same time pulling out
a sample of bad ship oats, that he had got from a neighbouring
ostler, to show the " stuff" their "osses" were a eatin' of. The
fact was, Jog's beer was nothing like so strong as Mr. Puffington's ;
added to which, Mr. Crowdey carried the principles of the poor-
law union into his own establishment, and dieted his servants upon
certain rules. Sunday, roast beef, potatoes, and pudding under
the meat ; Monday, fried beef, and stick -jaw (as they profanely
called a certain pudding) ; Wednesday, leg of mutton, and so on.
The allowance of beer was a pint and a half per diem to Bartho-
lomew, and a pint to each woman ; and Mr. Crowdey used to
observe from the head of the servants' dinner-table on the arrival
of each cargo, " Now this (puff) beer is to (wheeze) a month, and,,
if you choose to drink it in a (gasp) day, you'll go without any for
the rest of the (wheeze) time ; " an intimation that had a very
favourable effect upon the tap. Mr. Leather, however, did not like
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 327
if. " Puffington's servants," he said, " had beer whenever they
chose," and he thought it "awful mean," restricting the quantity.
Mr. Jog, however, was not to be moved. Thus time crawled
heavily on.
Mr. and Mrs. Jog had a long confab one night on the expediency
of getting rid of Mr. Sponge. Mrs. Jog wanted to keep him on
till after the christening ; while Jog combated her reasons by
representing the improbability of its doing Gustavus James any
good having him for a godpapa, seeing Sponge's age, and the
probability of his marrying himself. Mrs. Jog, however, was very
determined ; rather too much so, indeed, for she awakened Jog's
jealousy, who lay tossing and tumbling about all through the
night.
He was up very early, and as Mrs. Jog was falling into a
comfortable nap, she was aroused by his well-known voice hallooing
as loud as he could in the middle of the entrance-passage.
" BA'RT'soLO-me-e-iv ! " the last syllable being pronounced or
prolonged like the mew of a cat.
" BARTHOLO-me-e-?t'/" repeated he, not getting an answer to the
first shout.
" Murry Ann ! " shouted he, after another pause.
" Murry Ann ! " exclaimed he, still louder.
Just then, the iron latch of a door at the top of the house opened,
and a female voice exclaimed hurriedly over the banisters, —
" Yes, sir ! here, sir ! comin', sir ! comin' ! "
" Oh, Murry Ann (puff), that's (wheeze) you, is it?" asked Jog,
still speaking at the top of his voice.
"Yes, sir," replied Mary Ann.
" Oh ! then, Murry Ann, I wanted to (puff) — that you'd better
get the (puff) breakfast ready early. I think Mr. (gasp) — Sponge
will be (wheezing) away to day."
" Yes, sir," replied Mary Ann.
All this was said in such a tone as could not fail to be heard all
over the house ; certainly into Mr. Sponge's room, which was
midway between the speakers.
"What prevented Mr. Sponge wheezing away, will appear in the
next chapter.
328
MR. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR.
CHAPTER XLVII.
SIR HARRY SCATTERCASH'S HOUNDS.
HE reason Mr. Sponge did not
take his departure, after the
pretty intelligible hint given
by his host, was, that as he
was passing his shilling army
razor over his soapy chin, be
saw a stockingless lad, in a
purply coat and faded hunt-
ing-cap, making his way up to
the house, at a pace that
•etokened more than ordinary
vagrancy. It was the kennel,
stable, and servants' hall
courier of Nunsuch House,
come to say that Sir Harry
hunted that day.
Presently Mr. Leather
knocked at Mr. Sponge's
bedroom door, and, being
invited in, announced the fact.
" Sir Arry's 'ounds 'unt," said he, twisting the door handle as he
spoke.
" AVhat time ? " asked Mr. Sponge, with his half-shaven face
turned towards him.
" Meet at eleven," replied Leather.
"Where ? " inquired Mr. Sponge.
" Nonsuch House, 'bout nine miles off."
It was thirteen, but Mr. Leather heard the malt liquor was
good, and wanted to taste it.
" Take on the brown, then," said Mr. Sponge, quite pompously ;
" and tell Bartholomew to have the hack at the door at ten — or
say a quarter to. Tell him, I'll lick him for every minute he's
late ; and, mind, don't let old Rorey O'Morc here know," meaning
our friend Jog, " or he may take a fancy to go, and we shall never
get there," alluding to their former excursion.
" No, no," replied Mr. Leather, leaving the room.
Mr. Sponge then arrayed himself in his hunting costume — scarlet
coat, green tie, blue vest, gosling coloured cords, and brown tops ;
and was greeted with a round of applause from the little Jogs as
he entered the breakfast room. Gustavus James would handle
THE NONSUCH COURIER.
MR. SPONGE STARTING FROM THE BOWER.
[P. 329.
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 329
him ; and, considering that his paws were all over raspberry jam,
onr friend would as soon have dispensed with his attentions. Mrs.
Jog was all smiles, and Jog all scowls.
A little after ten our friend, cigar in mouth, was in the saddle.
Mrs. Jog, with Gustavus James in her arms, and all the children
clustering about, stood in the passage to sec him start, and watch the
capers and caprioles of the piebald, as he ambled down the avenue.
" Nine miles — nine miles," muttered Mr. Sponge to himself, as
he passed through the Lodge and turned up the Quarryburn Road ;
" do it in an hour well enough," said he, sticking spurs into the
hack, and cantering away.
Having kept this pace up for about five miles, till he thought
from the view he had taken of the map it was about time to be
turning, he hailed a blacksmith in his shop, who, next to saddlers,
arc generally the most intelligent people about hounds, and asked
how far it was to Sir Harry's ?
" Eight miles," replied the man, in a minute.
" Impossible ! " exclaimed Mr. Sponge. " It was only nine at
starting, and I've come I don't know how many."
The next person Mr. Sponge met told him it was ten miles ; the
third, after asking him where he had come from, said he was a
stranger in the country, and had never heard of the place ; and,
what with Mr. Leather's original mis-statement, misdirections from
other people, and mistakes of his own, it was more good luck than
good management that got Mr. Sponge to Nonsuch House in time.
The fact was, the whole hunt was knocked up in a hurry. Sir
Harry, and the choice spirits by whom he was surrounded, had not
finished celebrating the triumphs of the Snobston Green day, and
as it was not likely that the hounds would be out again soon, the
people of the hunting establishment were taking their ease.
"Watchorn had gone to be entertained at a public supper given by
the poachers and fox-stealers of the village of Bark-shot, as a
" mark of respect for his abilities as a sportsman and his integrity
as a man," meaning his indifference to his master's interests ; while
the first-whip had gone to visit his aunt, and the groom was away
negotiating the exchange of a cow. With things in this state,
wily Tom of Tinklerhatch, a noted fox-stealer in Lord Scamper-
dale's country, had arrived with a great thundering dog fox, stolen
from his lordship's cover near the cross roads at Dallington Burn,
which being communicated to our friends about midnight in the
smoking room at Nonsuch House, it was resolved to hunt him
forthwith, especially as one of the guests, Mr. Orlando Bugles, of
the Surrey Theatre, was obliged to return to town immediately, and,
as he sometimes enacted the part of Squire Tallyho, it was thought
a little of the reality might correct the Tom and Jerry style in
which he did it. Accordingly, orders were issued for a hunt,
330 ME. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
notwithstanding the hounds were fed and the horses watered. Sir
Harry didn't " care a rap ; let them go as fast as they could."
All these circumstances conspired to make them late ; added to
which, when Watchorn, the huntsman, cast up, which he did on a
higgler's horse, he found the only sound one in his stud had gone
to the neighbouring town to get some fiddlers, — her ladyship
having determined to compliment Mr. Bugles' visit by a quadrille
party. Bugles and she were old friends. When Mr. Sponge cast
up at half-past eleven, things were still behind-hand.
Sir Harry and party had had a wet night of it, and were all more
or less drunk. They had kept up the excitement with a champagne
breakfast and various liqueurs, to say nothing of cigars. They
were a sad debauched-looking set, some of them scarcely out of
their teens, with pallid cheek, trembling hands, sunken eyes, and
all the symptoms of premature decay. Others — the sock-and-
buskin ones — were a made-up, wigged, and padded set. Bugles
was resplendent. He had on a dress scarlet coat, lined and faced with
yellow satin (one of the properties, we believe, of the Victoria), a
beautifully worked pink shirt-front, a pitch-plaster coloured
waistcoat, white ducks, and jack-boots, with brass heel spurs. He
carried his whip in the arm's-length-wayof a circus master follow-
ing a horse. Some dozen of these curiosities were staggering, and
swaggering, and smoking in front of Nonsuch House, to the
edification of a lot of gaping grooms and chawbacons, when Mr.
Sponge cantered becomingly up on the piebald. Lady Scattercash,
with several elegantly-dressed females, all with cigars in their
mouths, were conversing with them from the open drawing-
room windows above, while sundry good-looking damsels ogled
them from the attics above. Such was the tableau that presented
itself to Mr. Sponge as he cantered round the turn that brought
him in front of the Elizabethan mansion of Nonsuch House.
Sir Harry, who was still rather drunk, thinking that every person
there must be either one of his party, or a friend of one of his party,
or a neighbour, or some one that he had seen before, reeled up to
our friend as he stopped, and, shaking him heartily by the hand,
asked him to come in and have something to eat. This was a
godsend to Mr. Sponge, who accepted the proffered hand most
readily, shaking it in a way that quite satisfied Sir Harry he was
right in some one or other of his conjectures. Bugles, and all the
reeling, swaggering bucks, looked respectfully at the well-appointed
man, and Bugles determined to have a pair of nut-brown tops as
soon as ever he got back to town.
Sir Harry was a tall, wan, pale young man, with a strong
tendency to delirium tremens ; that, and consumption, appeared to
be running a match for his person. He was a harum-scarum
fellow, all strings, and tapes, and ends, and flue. He looked as if
ME. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUU. 331
lie slept in his clothes. His hat was fastened on with aribbon, or rather
a ribbon passed round near the band,in order to fasten it on, for it was
seldom or ever applied to the purpose, and the ends generally went
flying out behind like a Chinaman's tail. Then his flashy, many-
coloured cravats, stared and straggled in all directions, while his
untied waistcoat-strings protruded between the laps of his old short-
waisted swallow-tailed scarlet, mixing in glorious confusion with
those of his breeches behind. The knee-strings were generally also
loose ; the web straps of his boots were seldom in ; and, what with
one set of strings and another, he had acquired the name of Sixtecn-
string'd Jack. Mr. Sponge having dismounted, and given his hack
to the now half-drunken Leather, followed Sir Harry through a
foil and four-in-hand whip-hung hall to the deserted breakfast-room,
where chairs stood in all directions, and crumpled napkins strewed
the floor. The litter of eggs, and remnants of muffins, and
diminished piles of toast, and broken bread and empty toast racks,
and cups and saucers, and half -emptied glasses, and wholly
emptied champagne bottles, were scattered up and down a dis-
orderly table, further littered with newspapers, letter backs,
County Court summonses, mustard pots, anchovies, pickles — all
the odds and ends of a most miscellaneous meal. The side-table
exhibited cold joints, game, poultry, lukewarm hashed venison,
and sundry lamp-lit dishes of savoury grills.
"Here you are ! " exclaimed Sir Harry, taking his hunting-whip
and sweeping the contents of one end of the table on to the floor
with a crash that brought in the butler and some theatrical-looking
servants.
"Take those filthy things away ! (hiccup)," exclaimed Sir Harry
crushing the broken china smaller under his heels ; "and (hiccup)
bring some red-herrings and soda-water. What the deuce does
the (hiccup) cook mean by not (hiccuping) things as he ought ?
Now," said he, addressing Mr. Sponge, and raking the plates and
dishes up to him with the handle of his whip, just as a gaming-
table keeper rakes up the stakes, — " now," said he, " make your
(hiccup) game. There'll be some hot (hiccup) in directly." He
meant to say " tea," but the word failed him.
Mr. Sponge fell to with avidity. He was always ready to eat,
and attacked first one thing and then another, as though he had
not had any breakfast at Puddingpote Bower.
Sir Harry remained mute for some minutes, sitting cross-legged
and backwards in his chair, with his throbbing temples resting
upon the back, wondering where it was that he had met Mr.
Sponge. He looked different without his hat ; and, though he saw
it was no one he knew particularly, he could not help thinking he
had seen him before.
Indeed, he thought it was clear, from Mr. Sponge's manner, that
332 MR. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUP.
they had met, and he -was just going to ask him whether it was at
Offley's or the Coal Hole, when a sudden move outside attracted
his attention. It was the hounds.
The huntsman's horse having at length returned from the fiddler
hunt, and being whisped over, and made tolerably decent, Mr.
Watchorn, having exchanged the postilion saddle in which it had
been ridden for a horn-cased hunting one, had mounted, and
opening the kennel-door, had liberated the pent-up pack, who came
tearing out full cry and spread themselves over the country, re-
gardless alike of the twang, twang, twang of the horn and the furious
onslaught of a couple of stable lads in scarlet and caps, who, true
to the title of "whippers-in," let drive at all they could get within
reach of. The hounds had not been out, even to exercise, since
the Snobston-Green day, and were as wild as hawks. They were
ready to run anything. Furious and Furrier tackled with a cow.
Bountiful ran a black cart-colt, and made him leap the haw-haw.
Sempstress, Singwell, and Saladin (puppies), went after some crows.
Mercury took after the stable cat, while old Thunderer and Come-
by-chance (supposed to be one of Lord Scarnperdale's) joined in
pursuit of a cur. Watchorn, however, did not care for these little
ebullitions of spirit, and never having been accustomed to exercise
the " Camberwell and Balham Hill Union Harriers," he did not
see any occasion for troubling the fox hounds. " They would soon
settle," he said, " when they got a scent."
It was this riotous start that diverted Sixteen-string'd Jack's
attention from our friend, and, looking out of the window, Mr.
Sponge saw all the company preparing to be off. There was the
elegant Bugles mounting her ladyship's white Arab ; the brothers
Spangles climbing on to their cream-colours ; Mr. This getting on
to the postman's pony, and Mr. That on to the gamekeeper's. Mr.
Sponge hurried out to get to the brown ere his anger arose at being
left behind, and provoked a scene. He only just arrived in time ;
for the twang of the horn, the cracks of the whips, the clamorous
rates of the servants, the yelping of the hounds, and the general
commotion, had got up his courage, and he launched out in such a
way, when Mr. Sponge mounted, as would have shot a loose rider
into the air. As it was, Mr. Sponge grappled manfully with him,
and, letting the Latchfords into his sides, shoved him in front of the
throng, as if nothing had happened. Mr. Leather then slunk back
to the stable, to get out the hack to have a hunt in the distance.
The hounds, as we said before, were desperately wild ; but at
length, by dint of coaxing and cracking, and whooping and halloo-
ing, they got some ten couples out of the five-and-twenty gathered
together, and Mr. Watchorn, putting himself at their head, trotted
briskly on, blowing most lustily, in the hopes that the rest would
follow. So he clattered along the avenue, formed between rows of
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 333
sombre-headed firs and sweeping spruce, out of -which whirred
clouds of pheasants, and scuttling rabbits, and stupid hares kept
crossing and recrossing, to the derangement of Mr. Watchorn's
temper and the detriment of the unsteady pack. Squeak, squeak,
squeal sounded right and left, followed sometimes by the heavy retri-
butive hand of Justice on the offenders' hides, and sometimes by the
snarl, snap, and worry of a couple of hounds contending for the prey.
Twang, twang, twang, still went the horn ; and when the hunts-
man reached the unicorn-crested gates, between tea-caddy looking
lodges, he found himself in possession of a clear majority of his
unsizeable pack. Some were rather bloody to be sure, and a few
carried scraps of game, which fastidious masters would as soon have
seen them without ; but neither Sir Harry nor his huntsman
cared about appearances.
On clearing the lodges, and passing about a quarter of a mile on
the Hardington Eoad, hedge-rows ceased, and they came upon
Farleyfair Downs, across which Mr. Watchorn now struck, making
for a square plantation, near the first hill-top, where it had been
arranged the bag-fox should be shook. It wTas a fine day, rather
brighter, perhaps, than sportsmen like, and there was a crispness
in the air indicative of frost, but then there is generally a burning
scent just before one. So thought Mr. Watchorn, as he turned his
feverish face up to the bright, blue sky, imbibing the fine fresh air
of the wide-extending downs, instead of the stale tobacco smoke of
the fetid beer-shop. As he trotted over the springy sward, up the
gently rising ground, he rose in his stirrups ; and, laying hold of his
horse's mane, turned to survey the long-drawn, lagging field behind.
" You'll have to look sharp, my hearties," said he to himself,
as he run them over in his eye, and thought there might be twenty
or five-and-twenty horsemen ; " you'll have to look sharp, my
hearties," said he, " if you mean to get away, for Wily Tom has
his hat on the ground, which shows he has put him down, and if
he's the sort of gem'man I expect he'll not be long in cover."
So saying, he resumed his seat in the saddle, and easing his
horse, endeavoured, by sundry dog noises — such as, " Yooi doit,
Ravager ! " " Gently, Paragon ! " " Here again, Mercury ! " — to-
restrain the ardour of the leading hounds, so as to let the rebellious
tail ones up and go into cover with something like a body. This
was rather a difficult task to accomplish, for those with him being
light, and consequently anxious to be doing and ready for riotr
were difficult to restrain from dashing forward ; while those that
had taken their diversion and refreshment among the game, were
easy whether they did anything more or not.
While Watchorn was thus manoeuvring his forces Wily Tom
beckoned him on, and old Cruiser and Marmion, who had often
been at the game before, and knew what Wily Tom's hat on the
334 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
ground meant, flew to him full cry, drawing all their companions
after them.
" I think he's away to the west," said Tom, in an undertone,
resting his hand on "Watchorn's horse's shoulder; "back home,'''
added he, jerking his head with a knowing leer of his roguish
eye.
"They're on him ! " exclaimed he after a pause, as the outburst
of melody proclaimed that the hounds had crossed his line. Then
there was such racing and striving among the fields to get up, and
such squeezing and crowding, and " Mind, my horse kicks ! " at
the little white hunting wicket leading into cover. " Knock down
the wall ! " exclaimed one. " Get out of the way ; I'll ride over
it !" roared another. " We shall be here all day ! " vociferated a
third. " That's a header ! " cried another, as a clatter of stones
was followed by a pair of white breeches summerseting in the air
with a horse underneath. " It's Tom Sawbones, the doctor ! "
exclaimed one, " and he can mend himself." " By Jove ! but he's
killed ! " shrieked another. " Not a bit of it," added a third, as
the dead man rose and ran after his horse. "Let Mr. Bugles
through," cried Sir Harry, seeing his friend, or rather his wife's
friend, was fretting the Arab.
Meanwhile, the melody of hounds increased, and each man, as
he got through the little gate, rose in his stirrups and hustled his
horse along the green ride to catch up those on before. The
plantation was about twenty acres, rather thick and briary at the
bottom ; and master Reynard, finding it was pretty safe, and, more-
over, having attempted to break just by where some chawbacons
were ploughing, had headed short back, so that, when the excited
field rushed through the parallel gate on the far side of the planta-
tion, expecting to see the pack streaming away over the downs, they
found most of the hounds with their heads in the air, some looking
for halloos, others watching their companions trying to carry the
scent over the fallow.
Watchorn galloped up in the frantic state half-witted huntsmen
generally are, and one of the impromptu whips being in attendance,
got quickly round the hounds, and commenced a series of assaults
upon them that very soon sent them scuttling to Mr. "Watchorn
for safety. If they had been at the hares again, or even worrying
sheep, he could not have rated or flogged more severely.
" Marksman ! Marksman ! oi/gh, ye old Divil, get to Mm ! "
roared the whip, aiming a stinging cut with his heavy knotty-
pointed whip, at a venerable sage who still snuffed down a furrow-
to satisfy himself the fox was not on before he returned to cover, —
a,n exertion that overbalanced the whip, and would have landed
him on the ground, had not he caught by the spur in the old mare's
flank. Then he went on scrambling and rating after Marksman,
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. CCS
the field exclaiming, as the Edmonton people did, by Johnny
Gilpin,
He's on ! no, he's off, he hangs by the mane I
At last he got shuffled back into the saddle, and the cry of
hounds in cover attracting the outsiders back, the scene quickly
changed, and the horsemen were again over head in wood. They
now swept up the grass ride to the exposed part of the higher
ground, the trees gradually diminishing in size, till, on reaching
the top, they did not come much above a horse's shoulder. This
point commanded a fine view over the adjacent country. Behind,
was the rich vale of Dairylow, with its villages and spires, and
trees and inclosures, while in front was nothing but the undulating,
wide-stretching downs, reaching to the soft grey hills in the dis-
tance. There was not, however, much time for contemplating
scenery ; for Wily Tom, who had stolen to this point immediately
the hounds took up the scent, now viewed the fox stealing over a
gap in the wall, and, the field catching sight, there was such a
hullabaloo as would have made a more composed and orderly-
minded fox think it better to break instead of running the outside of
the wall as this one intended to do. What wind there was swept
over the downs ; aud putting himself straight to catch it, he went
away whisking his brush in the air, as if he was fresh out of
his kennel instead of a sack. Then what a commotion there was !
Such jumpings off to lead down, such huggings and holdings, and
wooa-ings of those that sat on, such slidings and scramblings, and
loosenings and rollings of stones. Then the frantic horses began
to bound, and the frightened riders to exclaim,
"Bo get out of my way, sir."
" Mind, sii- ! I'm a-top of you ! "
" Give him his head and let him go ! " exclaimed the still
drunken brother Bob Spangles, sliding iiis horse down with a slack
rein.
" That's your sort ! " roared Sir Harry, and just as he said it,
his horse dropped on his hind-quarters like a rabbit, landing Sir
Harry comfortably on his feet, amid the roars of the foot-people,
and the mirth of such of the horsemen as were not too frightened
to laugh.
" I think I'll stay where I am," observed Mr. Bugles, preparing
for a bird's-eye view where he was. " This hunting," said he,
getting off the fidgety Arab, " seems dangerous."
The parties who accomplished the descent had now some fine
plain sailing for their trouble. The line lay across the open downs,
composed of sound, springy, racing-like turf, extremely well
adapted for trying the pace either of horses or hounds. And very
soon it did try the pace of them, for they had not gone above a mile
338 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
before there was very considerable tailing with both. To be sure,
they had never been very well together, but still the line lengthened
instead of contracting. Horses that could hardly be held down
hill, and that applied themselves to the turf, on landing as if they
could never have enough of it, now began to bear upon the rein
and hang back to those behind ; while the hounds came straggling
along like a flock of wild geese, with full half a mile between the
leader and the last. However, they all threw their tongues, and
each man flattered himself that the hound he was with was the
first. In vain the galloping "Watchorn looked back and tootled
his horn ; in vain he worked with his cap ; in vain the whips rode
at the tail hounds, cursing and swearing, and vowing they would
cut them in two.
There was no getting them together. Every now and then the
fox might be seen, looking about the size of a marble, as he rounded
some distant hill, each succeeding view making him less, till, at
last, he seemed no bigger than a pea.
Five-and-twenty minutes best pace over downs is calculated to
try the mettle of anything ; and, long before the leading hounds
reach Cockthropple Dean, the field was choked by the pace. Sir
Harry had long been tailed off ; both the brothers Spangles had
dropped astern ; the horse of one had dropped too ; Sawbones, the
doctor's, had got a stiff neck ; Willing, the road surveyor, and Mr.
Lavender, the grocer, pulled up together. Muddyman, the
farmer's four-year-old had enough at the end of ten minutes ; both
the whips tired theirs in a quarter of an hour ; and in less than
twenty minutes Watchorn and Sponge were alone in their glory,
or rather Sponge was in his glory, for Watchorn's horse was beat.
" Lend me your horn ! " exclaimed Sponge, as he heard by the
hammer and pincering of Watchorn's horse, it was all U P with
him.
The horse stopped as if shot ; and getting the horn, Mr. Sponge
went on, the brown laying himself out as if still full of running.
Cockthropple Dean was now close at hand, and in all probability
the fox would not leave it. So thought Mr. Sponge as he dived
into it, astonished at the chorus and echo of the hounds.
" Tally ho I " shouted a countryman on the opposite side ; and the
road Sponge had taken being favourable to the point, he made for
it at a hand-gallop, horn in hand, to blow as soon as he got there.
" He's away ! " cried the man as soon as our friend appeared ;
" red 'cross tornops ! " added he, pointing with his hoe.
Mr. Sponge then put his horse's head that way, and blew a long
shrill reverberating blast. As he paused to take breath and
listen, he heard the sound of horses' hoofs, and presently a stentorian
voice, half frantic with rage, exclaimed from behind,
" Who the Dickens are you ? "
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 337
" Who the Dickens are you?" retorted Mr. Sponge, without look-
ing round.
" They commonly call me the Earl of Scamperdale," reared
the same sweet voice, " and those are my hounds."
" They're not your hounds ! " snapped Mr. Sponge, now looking
round on his big-spectacled, flat-hatted lordship, who was closely
followed by his double, Mr. Spraggon.
" Not my hounds 1 '" screeched his lordship. " Oh, ye barber's
apprentice ! Ob, ye draper's assistant ! Oh, ye unmitigated
Mahomed on ! Sing out, Jack ! sing out ! For Heaven's sake, sing
out ! " added he, throwing out his arms in perfect despair.
" Not his lordship's hounds ! " roared Jack, now rising in his
stirrups and brandishing his big whip. " Not his lordship's hounds !
Tell me that, when they cost him five-and-twenty 'underd — two
thousand five 'underd a-year ! Oh, by Jingo, but that's a pretty
go ! If they're not his lordship's hounds, I should like to know
whose they are ? " and thereupon Jack wiped the foam from his
mouth on his sleeve.
" Sir Harry's ! " exclaimed Mr. Sponge, again putting the horn
to his lips, and blowing another shrill blast.
" Sir Harry's ! " screeched his lordship in disgust, for he hated
the very sound of his name — "Sir Harry's ? Oh, you rusty-booted
ruffian ! Tell me that to my very face ! "
"Sir Harry's!" repeated Jack, again standing erect in his
stirrups. " What ! impeach his lordship's integrity — oh, by Jove,
there's an end of everything ! Death before dishonour ! Slugs in
a saw-pit ! Pistols and coffee for two ! Cock-pheasant at Wey-
bridge, six o'clock i' the mornin' ! " And Jack, sinking exhausted
on his saddle, again wiped the foam from his mouth.
His lordship then went at Sponge again.
" Oh, you sanctified, putrified, pestilential, perpendicular, ginger-
bread-booted, counter-ski ppin' snob, you think because I'm a lord,
and can't swear or use coarse language, that you may do what you
like ; but I'll let you see the contrary," said he, brandishing his
brother to Jack's whip. " Mark you, sir, I'll fight you, sir, any
non-huntin' day you like, sir, 'cept Sunday."
Just then the clatter and blowing of horses was heard, and
Frostyface emerged from the wood followed by the hounds, who,
swinging themselves " forrard " over the turnips, hit off the scent
and went away full cry, followed by his lordship and Jack, leaving
Mr. Sponge transfixed with astonishment.
" Changed foxes," at length said Sponge, with a shake of his
head ; and just then the cry of hounds on the opposite bank con-
firmed his conjecture, and he got to Sir Harry's in time to take up
his lordship's fox.
His lordship's hounds ran into Sir Harry's fox about two miles
338
Mil. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
farther on, but the hounds would not break him up ; and, on
examining' him, he was found to have been aniseeded ; and, worst
of all, by the mark on his ear to be one that they had turned down
themselves the season before, being- one of a litter that Sly
had stolen from Sir Harry's cover at Seedeygorse — a beautiful
instance of retributive justice.
CHAPTER XLVII1.
FARMER PEASTRAW S DINE-MATINEE.
THERE are
pleasanter sit-
uations than
being left
alone with
twenty couple
of even the
best - man -
nered fox-
hounds ; far
pleasanter sit-
uations than
being left
alone with
such a tearing,
frantic lot as
composed Sir
Harry Scat-
tercash'spack.
Sportsmen are
so used (with
some hounds
at least) to see
foxes "in
hand" that
they never
think there is any difficulty in getting them there ; and it is only
a single-handed combat with the pack that shows them that the
hound does not bring the fox up in his mouth like a retriever. A
tyro's first tete-a-tete with a half-killed fox, with the baying pack
circling round, must leave as pleasing a souvenir on the memory as Mr.
Gordon Cummins: would derive from his first interview with a lion.
MR. BUGLES PREFERS DANCING TO HUNTING.
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 339
Our friend Mr. Sponge was now engaged with a game of " pull
devil, pull baker," with the hounds for the fox, the difficulty of
his situation being heightened by having to contend with the impet-
uous temper of a high-couraged, dangerous horse. To be sure, the
gallant Hercules was a good deal subdued by the distance and
severity of the pace, but there are few horses that get to the end
of a run that have not sufficient kick left in them to do mischief
to hounds, especially when raised or frightened by the smell of
blood ; nevertheless, there was no help for it. Mr. Sponge knew,
that unless he carried off some trophy, it would never be believed
he had killed the fox. Considering all this, and also that there
was no one to tell what damage he did, he just rode slap into the
middle of the pack, as Marksman, Furious, Thunderer, and
Bountiful, were in the act of despatching the fox. Singwell and
Saladin (puppies) having been sent away howling, the one bit
through the jowl, the other through the foot.
" Ah! leave him — leave him — leave Mm!" screeched Mr. Sponge,
trampling over Warrior and Tempest, the brown horse lashing out
furiously at Melody and Lapwing. "Ah, leave him ! leave him! "
repeated he, throwing himself off his horse by the fox, and clearing
a circle with his whip, aided by the hoofs of the animal. There
lay the fox before him killed, but as yet little broken by the pack.
He was a noble fellow ; bright and brown, in the full vigour of
life and condition, with a gameness, even in death, that no other
animal shows. Mr. Sponge put his foot on the body, and
quickly whipped off his brush. Before he had time to pocket
it, the repulsed pack broke in upon him and carried off the
carcass.
" Ah ! dash ye, you may have that" said he, cutting at them
with his whip as they clustered upon it like a swarm of bees.
They had not had a wild fox for five weeks.
" Who-hoop ! " cried Mr. Sponge, in the hopes of attracting
some of the field. " Who-hoop ! " repeated he, as loud as he
could halloo. " Where can they all be, I wonder ? " said he,
looking around ; and echo answered — where ?
The hounds had now crunched their fox, or as much of him as
they wanted. Old Marksman ran about with his head, and
Warrior with a haunch.
" Drop it, you old beggar ! " cried Mr. Sponge, cutting at
Marksman with his whip, and Mr. Sponge being too near to make
a trial of speed prudent, the old dog did as he was bid, and slunk
away.
Our friend then appended this proud trophy to his saddle-flap
by a piece of whipcord, and, mounting the now tractable Hercules,
began to cast about in search of a landmark. Like most down
countries, this one was somewhat deceptive ; there were plenty of
z 2
340 MB. SPONGE'S SPOBTING TOUB.
landmarks, but they were all the same sort — clumps of trees on
hill-tops, and plantations on hill-sides, bat nothing of a dis-
tinguishing character, nothing that a stranger could say, "I
remember seeing that as I came ; " or, " I remember passing that
in the run." The landscape seemed all alike : north, south, east,
and west, equally indifferent.
" Curse the thing," said Mr. Sponge, adjusting himself in his
saddle, and looking about ; " I haven't the slightest idea where I
am. I'll blow the horn, and see if that will bring any one."
So saying, he applied the horn to his lips, and blew a keen,
shrill blast, that spread over the surrounding country, and was
echoed back by the distant hills. A few lost hounds cast up from
various quarters, in the unexpected way that hounds do come to a
bom. Among them were a few branded with S,* who did not at
all set off the beauty of the rest.
" 'Ord rot you, you belong to that old ruffian, do you ? "
said Mr. Sponge, riding and cutting at one with his whip, ex-
claiming, "Get away to him, ye beggar, or I'll tuck you up
short."
He now, for the first time, saw them together in anything like
numbers, and was struck with the queerness and inequality of the
whole. They were of all sorts and sizes, from the solemn towering
calf-like fox-hound down to the little wriggling harrier. They
seemed, too, to be troubled with various complaints and
infirmities. Some had the mange ; some had blear eyes ; some
had but one ; many were out at the elbows ; and not a few down
at the toes. However, they had killed a fox, and " Handsome
is that handsome does," said Mr. Sponge, as, with his horse
surrounded by them, he moved on in quest of his way home.
At first, he thought to retrace his steps by the marks of
his horse's hoofs, and succeeded in getting back to the dean,
where Sir Harry's hounds changed foxes with Lord Scamperdale's ;
but he got confused with the imprints of the other horses, and
very soon had to trust entirely to chance, Chance, we are sorry
to say, did not befriend him ; for, after wandering over the wide-
extending downs, he came upon the little hamlet of Tinkler
Hatch, and was informed that he had been riding in a semi-
circle.
He there got some gruel for his horse, and, with day closing in,
now set off, as directed, on the Ribchester Road, with the
assurance that he " couldn't miss his way." Some of the hounds
here declined following him any further, and slunk into cottages
and outhouses as they passed along. Mr. Sponge, however, did.
not care for their company.
* " S," for Scamperdale, showing they wore his lordship's.
MB. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR. 341
Having travelled musingly along two or three miles of road,
now thinking over the glorious run — now of the gallant way in
which Hercules had carried him — now of the pity it was that there
was nobody there to see — now of the encounter with Lord
Scamperdale, just as he passed a well-filled stack-yard, that had
shut out the view of a flaming red brick house with a pea-green
door and windows, an outburst of " Iwo-rajB ! " followed by one
cheer more — " hooo-ray ! " made the remaining wild hounds prick
up their ears, and our friend rein in his horse, to hear what was
" up." A bright fire in a room on the right of the door over-
powered the clouds of tobacco-smoke with which the room was
enveloped, and revealed sundry scarlet coats in the full glow of
joyous hilarity. It was Sir Harry and friends recruiting at
Farmer Peastraw's after their exertions ; for, though they could
not make much of hunting, they were always ready to drink.
They were having a rare set-to — rashers of bacon, wedges of
cheese, with oceans of malt-liquor. It was the appearance of a
magnificent cold round of home-fed beef, red with saltpetre and flaky
with white fat, borne on high by their host, that elicited the applause
and the one cheer more that broke on Mr. Sponge's ear as he was
passing, — applause that was renewed as they caught a glimpse of
his red coat, not on account of his safety or that of the hounds,
but simply because being in the cheering mood, they were ready to
cheer anything.
"Hil-foo/ there's Mr. What's-his-name ? exclaimed brother
Bob Spangles, as he caught view of Sponge and the hounds
passing the window.
" So there is ! " roared another ; " Hoo-my I "
" Hoo-my ! " yelled two or three more.
" Stop him ! " cried another.
" Call him in," roared Sir Harry, "and let's liquor him."
" Hilloo ! Mister What' 's-your-name I " exclaimed the other
Spangles, throwing up the window. " Hilloo, won't you come in
and have some refreshment ? "
" Who's there ? " asked Mr. Sponge, reining in the brown.
" Oh, we're all here," shouted brother Bob Spangles, holding
up a tumbler of hot brandy-and-water ; " we're all here — Sir
Harry and all," added he.
" But what shall I do with the hounds ? asked Mr. Sponge,
looking down upon the confused pack, now crowding about his
horse's head.
" Oh, let the beef-eaters — the scene-shifters — I meant to say
the servants — those fellows, you known, in scarlet and black caps,
look after them," replied brother Bob Spangles.
" But there are none of them here," exclaimed Mr. Sponge,
looking back on the deserted road.
342 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
" None of them here ! " hiccuped Sir Harry, who had now got
reeled to the window. " None of them here," repeated he, starinjr
vacantly at the uneven pack. "Oh (hiccup), I'll tell you what
do — (hiccup) them into a barn or a stable, or a (hiccup) of
any sort, and we'll send for them when we want to (hiccup)
again."
" Then just you call them to you," replied Sponge, thinking
they would go to their master. " Just you call them," repeated
he, " and I'll put them to you."
" (Hiccup) call to them ? " replied Sir Harry ; " I can't
(hiccup)."
" Oh, yes ! " rejoined Mr. Sponge ; " call one or two by their
names, and the rest will follow/'
" Names ! (hiccup) I don't know any of their nasty names,"
replied Sir Harry, staring wildly.
" Tovvler ! Towler ! Towler ! here, good dog — hoop ! — here's
your liquor ! " cried brother Bob Spangles, holding the smoking
tumbler of brandy-and-water out of the window, as if to tempt
any hound that chose to answer to the name of Towler.
There didn't seem to be a Towler in the pack ; at least, none of
them qualified for the brandy-and-water.
" Oh, I'll (hiccup) you what we'll do," exclaimed Sir Harry ;
"I'll (hiccup) you what we'll do. We'll just give them a (hiccup)
kick a-piece and send them (hiccuping) home," Sir Harry, reeling
back into the room to the black horse-hair sofa, where his whip
Avas.
He presently appeared at the door, and, going into the midst of
the hounds, commenced laying about him, rating, and cutting,
and kicking, and shouting.
" Geeie away home with ye, ye brutes ; what are you all
(hiccup)ing here about? Ah! cut off his tail!"" cried he,
staggering after a venerable blear-eyed sage, who dropped his stern
and took off.
"Be off! Does your mother know you're out?" cried Bob
Spangles, out of the window, to old Marksman, who stood
Wondering what to do.
The old hound took the hint also.
" Now, then, old feller," cried Sir Harry, staggering up to Mr.
Sponge, who still sat on his horse, in mute astonishment at Sir
Harry's mode of dealing with his hounds. "Now, then, old
feller," said he, seizing Mr. Sponge by the hand, " get rid of your
quadruped, and (hiccup) in, and make yourself 'o'er all the
(hiccups) of life victorious,' as Bob Spangles says, when he
(hiccups) it neat. This is old (hiccup) Peastraw's, a (hiccup)
tenant of mine, and he'll be most (hiccup) to see you."
" But what must I do with my horse ? " asked Mr. Sponge,
MB. SPONGE'S SPOBTING TOUB. 343
rubbing some of the dried sweat off the brown's shoulder as he
spoke ; adding, " I should like to get him a feed of corn."
"Give him some ale, and a (hiccup) of sherry in it," replied
Sir Harry ; " it'll do him far more good — make his mane grow,"
smoothing the horse's thin, silky mane as he spoke.
" Well, I'll put him up," replied Mr. Sponge, " and then come
to you," throwing himself, jockey fashion, off the horse as he
spoke.
" That's a (hiccup) feller," said Sir Harry ; adding, " here's old
Pea himself come to sec after you."
So saying. Sir Harry reeled back to his comrades in the house,
leaving Mr. Sponge in the care of the farmer.
"This way, sir ; this way," said the burly Mr. Peastraw, leading
the way into his farmyard, Avherc a line of hunters stood shivering
under a long cart-shed.
" But I can't put my horse in here," observed Mr. Sponge, look-
ing at the unfortunate brutes.
" No, sir, no," replied Mr. Peastraw ; put yours in a stable, sir ;
put yours in a stable ; " adding, " these young gents don't care
much about their horses."
" Does anybody know the chap's name ? " asked Sir Harry,
reeling back into the room.
" Know his name ! " exclaimed Bob Spangles ; " why, don't
you?"
" No," replied Sir Harry, with a vacant stare.
" Why, you went up and shook hands with him, as if you were
as thick as thieves," replied Bub.
" Did I ? " hiccuped Sir Harry. " Well, I thought I knew him.
At least, I thought it was somebody I had (hiccup)ed before ; and
at one's own (hiccup) house, you know, one's 'bligeel to be (hiccup)
feller well (hiccup) with everybody that comes. But, surely, some
of you know his (hiccup) name," added he, looking about at the
company.
" I think I know his (hiccup) face," replied Bob Spangles,
imitating his brother-in-law.
" I've seen him somewhere," observed the other Spangles,
through a mouthful of beef.
" So have I," exclaimed some one else, "but where I can't say."
"Most likely at church," observed brother Bob Spangles.
" Well, I don't think he'll corrupt me," observed Captain Quod,
speaking between the fumes of a cigar.
" He'll not borrow much of me," observed Captain Seedybuck,
producing a much tarnished green purse, and exhibiting two four-
penny-pieces at one end, and three-halfpence at the other.
" Oh, I dare say he's a good feller," observed Sir Harry ; " I
make no doubt he's one of the right sort."
344 ME. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
Just then in came the man himself, hat and whip in hand,
waving the brush proudly over his head.
"Ah, that's (hiccup) right, old feller," exclaimed Sir Harry,
again advancing with extended hand to meet him ; adding, "you'd
(hiccup) all you wanted for your (hiccup) horse : mutton broth —
I mean barley-water, foot-bath, everything right. Let me in ■
troduce my (hiccup) brother-in-law, Bob Spangles, my (hiccup)
friend Captain Ladofwax, Captain Quod, Captain (hiccup) Bouncey,
Captain (hiccup) Seedybuck, and my (hiccup) brother-in-law, Mr
Spangles, as lushy a cove as ever was seen ; ar'n't you, old boy ? "
added he, grasping the latter by the arm.
All these gentlemen severally bobbed their heads as Sir Harry
called them over, and then resumed their respective occupations —
eating, drinking, and smoking.
These were some of the debauched gentlemen Mr. Sponge had
seen before Nonsuch House in the morning. They were all
captains, or captains by courtesy. Ladofwax had been a painter
and glazier in the Borough, where he made the acquaintance of
Captain Quod, while that gentleman was an inmate of Captain
Hudson's strong house. Captain Bouncey was the too well-known
betting-office keeper ; and Seedybuck was such a constant
customer of Mr. Commissioner Fonblanqne's court, that that
worthy legal luminary, on discharging him for the fifth time, said
to him, with a very significant shake of the head, " You'd better
not come here again, sir." Seedybuck, being of the same opinion,
had since fastened himself on to Sir Harry Scattercash, who found
him in meat, drink, washing, and lodging. They were all attired
in red coats, of one sort. or another, though some of which were of
a very antediluvian, and others of a very dressing-gown cut.
Bouncey's had a hare on the button, and Seedybuck's coat sat on
him like a sack. Still a scarlet coat is a scarlet coat in the eyes of
some, and the coats were not a bit more unsportsmanlike than the
men. To Mr. Sponge's astonishment, instead of breaking out in
inquiries as to where they had run to, the time, the distance, who
was up, who was down, and so on, they began recommending the
victuals and drink ; and this, notwithstanding Mr. Sponge kept
flourishing the brush.
"We've had a rare run," said he, addressing himself to Sir Harry.
" Have you (hiccup) ? I'm glad of it (hiccup). Pray have
something to (hiccup) after it ; you must be (hiccup)."
" Let me help you to some of this cold round of beef?" ex-
claimed Captain Bouncey, brandishing the great broad-bladed
carving-knife.
"Have a slice of 'ot 'am," suggested Captain Quod.
" The finest run I ever rode ! " observed Mr. Sponge, still
endeavouring to 2;ct a hearing;.
MB. SPONGE'S SPOBTING TOUB. 345
" Dare say it would," replied Sir Harry ; " those (hiccup)
hounds of mine arc uncommon (hiccup)." He didn't know what
they were, and the hiccup came very opportunely.
" The pace was terrific ! " exclaimed Sponge.
" Dare say it would," replied Sir Harry ; " and that's what
makes me (hiccup) you're so (hiccup). Pea, here, has some rare
old October, — (hiccup) bushels to the (hiccup) hogshead."
" It's capital ! " exclaimed Captain Seedybuck, frothing himself
a tumblerful out of the tall brown jug.
" So is this," rejoined Captain Quod, pouring himself out a
liberal allowance of gin.
" That horse of mine carried me MAGnificently ! " observed Mr.
Sponge, with a commanding emphasis on the mag.
" Dare say he would," replied Sir Harry ; " he looked like a
(hiccup)er — a white 'un, wasn't he ? "
" No ; a brown?1 replied Mr. Sponge, disgusted at the mistake.
" Ah, well ; but there teas somebody on a white," replied Sir
Harry. " Oh, — ah — yes, — it was old Bugles on my lady's horse.
By the (hiccup) wTay (hiccup), gentlemen, what's got Mr. Orlando
(hiccup) Bugles ? " asked Sir Harry, staring wildly round.
"Oh! old Bugles! old Pad-the-Hoof ! old Mr. Funker ! the
horse frightened him so, that he went home crying," replied Bob
Spangles.
" Hope he didn't lose him ? " asked Sir Harry.
" Oh, no," replied Bob ; " he gave a lad a shilling to lead him,
and they trudged away very quietly together."
" The old (hiccup) ! " exclaimed Sir Harry ; " he told me he
was a member of the Surrey something."
" The Sorry Union," replied Captain Quod. " He was out with
them once, and fell off on his head and knocked his hat-crown
out."
" "Well, but I was telling you about the run," interposed Mr.
Sponge, again endeavouring to enlist an audience. " I was telling
you about the run," repeated he.
"Don't trouble yourself, my dear sir," interrupted Captain
Bouncey ; " we know all about it — found — checked— killed, killed
— found — checked."
" You can't know all about it ! " snapped Mr. Sponge ; " for
there wasn't a soul there but myself, much to my horror, for I
had a reg'lar row with old Scaraperdale, and never a soul to
back me."
" "What ! you fell in with that mealy-mouthed gentleman, who
can't (hiccup) swear because he's a (hiccup) lord, did you ? "
asked Sir Harry, his attention being now drawn to our friend.
" / did," replied Mr. Sponge ; " and a pretty passage of politeness
we had of it."
346 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
" Indeed ! (hiccup)," exclaimed Sir Harry. " Tell us (hiccup)
all about it."
" Well," said Mr. Sponge, laying the brush lengthways before him
on the table, as if he was going to demonstrate upon it. " Well,
you see we had a devil of a run — I don't know how many miles,
as hard as ever we could lay legs to the ground ; one by one the
field all dropped astern, except the huntsman and myself. At last
he gave in, or rather his horse did, and I was left alone in my
glory. Well, we went over the downs at a pace that nothing but
blood could live with, and, though my horse has never been beat,
and is as thorough-bred as Eclipse — a horse that I have refused
three hundred guineas for over and over again, I really did begin
to think I might get to the bottom of him, when all of a sudden
we came to a dean."
" Ah ! Cockthropple that would be," observed Sir Harry.
" Dare say," replied Mr. Sponge ; " Cock-any thing-you-1 ike-to-
call-it for me. Well, when we got there, I thought wc should
have some breathing time, for the fox would be sure to hug it.
But no ; no sooner had I got there than a countryman hallooed
him away on the far side. I got to the halloo as quick as I could,
and just as I was blowing the horn," producing Watchorn's from
his pocket as he spoke ; " for I must tell you," said he, " that
when I saw the huntsman's horse was beat, I took this from him
— a horn to a foot huntsman being of no more use, you know, than
a side-pocket to a cow, or a frilled shirt to a pig. Well, as I was
tootleing the horn for hard life, who should turn out of the wood
but eld mealy-mouth himself, as you call him, and a pretty volley
of abuse he let drive at me."
" No doubt," hiccuped Sir Harry ; " but Avhat was he doing
there ? "
" Oh ! I should tell yon," replied Mr. Sponge, " his hounds had
run a fox into it, and were on him full cry when I got there."
"I'll be bund," cried Sir Harry, " it was all sham — that he just
(hiccup) and excuse for getting into that cover. The old (hiccup)
beggar is always at some trick, (hiccup)ing my foxes or disturbing
my covers or something," Sir Harry being just enough of a master
of hounds to be jealous of the neighbouring ones.
" Well, however, there he was," continued Mr. Sponge ; " and
the first intimation 1 had of the fact was a great, gruff voice,
exclaiming, ' Who the Dickens are you ? '
" ' Who the Dickens are you ? ' replied I."
" Bravo ! " shouted Sir Harry.
" Capital ! " exclaimed Secdybuck.
" Go it, you cripples ! Newgate's on fire ! " shouted Captain
Quod.
"Well, what said he ? " asked Sir Harry.
MM. SPONGE'S SFOBTING TOUR. 317
" ' They commonly call me the Earl of Scamperdalc,' roared he,
4 and those are my hounds.'
" ' They're not your hounds,' replied I.
" ' Whose are they, then ? ' asked he.
" ' Sir Harry Scattercash's, a devilish deal better fellow,'
replied I.
" ' Oh, by Jove ! ' roared he, ' there's an end of everything.
Jack,' shouted he to old Spraggon, ' this gentleman says these are
not my hounds ! '
" ' I'll tell you what it is, my lord,' said I, gathering my whip
and riding close up as if I was goin' to pitch into him, ' I'll tell
you what it is ; you think, because you're a lord, you may abuse
people as you like, but by Jingo you've mistaken your man.
I'll not put up with any of your nonsense. The Sponges are
as old a family as the Scamperdales, and I'll fight you any non-
hunting day you like with pistols, broadswords, fists, or blunder-
busses.' "
"Well done you ! Bravo ! that's your sort ! " with loud thump-
ing of tables and clapping of hands, resounded from all parts.
" By Jove, fill him up a stiff 'un ! he deserves a good drink after
that ! " exclaimed Sir Harry, pouring Mr. Sponge out a beaker,
equal parts brandy and water.
Mr. Sponge immediately became a hero, and was freely admitted
into their circle. He was clearly a choice spirit — a trump of the
first water — and they only wanted his name to be uncommonly
thick with him. As it was, they plied him with victuals and
drink, all seeming anxious to bring him up to the same happy
state of inebriety as themselves. They talked and they chattered,
and they abused old Scamperdale and Jack Spraggon, and lauded
Mr. Sponge up to the skies.
Thus day closed in, with Farmer Peastraw's bright fire shedding
its cheering glow over the now encircling group. One would have
thought, that with their hearts mellow, and their bodies comfort-
able, their minds would have turned to that sport in whose honour
they sported the scarlet ; but no, hunting was never mentioned.
They were quite as genteel as Nimrod's swell friends at Melton,
who cut it altogether. They rambled from subject to subject,
chiefly on in-door and London topics ; billiards, betting-offices,
Coal Holes, Cremorne, Cider Cellars, Judge and Jury Courts,
there being an evident confusion in their minds between the
characters of sportsmen and sporting men, or gents as they are
called. Mr. Sponge tried hard to get them on the right tack, were
it only for the sake of singing the praises of the horse for which
he had so often refused three hundred guineas, but he never
succeeded in retaining a hearing. Talkers were far more plentiful
than listeners.
348 3IE. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
At last they got to singing, and when men begin to sing, it is
a sign that they are either drunk, or have had enough of each
other's company. Sir Harry's hiccup, from which he was never
wholly free, increased tenfold, and he hiccuped and spluttered at
almost every word. His hand, which shook so at starting that it
was odds whether he got his glass to his mouth or his ear, was now
steadied, but his glazed eye and green haggard countenance showed
at what a fearful sacrifice the temporary steadiness had been
obtained. At last his jaw dropped on his chest, his left arm hung
listlessly over the back of the chair, and he fell asleep. Captain
Quod, too, was overcome, and threw himself full-length on the
sofa. Captain Seedybuck began to talk thick.
Just as they were all about brought to a stand-still, the tramp-
ling of horses, the rumbling of wheels, and the shrill twang,
twang, twang, of the now almost forgotten mail horn, roused them
from their reveries.
It was Sir Harry's drag scouring the country in search of our
party. It had been to all the public-houses and beer-shops within
a radius of some miles of Nonsuch House, and was now taking a
speculative blow through the centre of the circle.
It was a clear frosty night, and the horses' hoofs rang, and the
wheels rolled soundly over the hard road, cracking the thin ice,
yet hardly sufficiently frozen to prevent a slight upshot from the
wheels.
Twang, twang, twang, went the horn full upon Farmer Pea-
straw's house, causing the sleepers to start, and the waking ones
to make for the window.
" Coach- a-hoy ! " cried Bob Spangles, smashing a pane in a
vain attempt to get the window up. The coachman pulled up at
the sound.
" Here we are, Sir Harry ! " cried Bob Spangles, into his brother-
in-law's ear, but Sir Harry was too liar gone ; he could not " come
to time." Presently a footman entered with furred coats, and
shawls, and checkered rugs, in which those who were sufficiently
sober enveloped themselves, and those who were too far gone were
huddled by Peastraw and the man ; and amid much hurry and
confusion, and jostling for inside seats, the party freighted the
coach, and whisked away before Mr. Sponge knew where he was.
When they arrived at Nonsuch House, they found Mr. Bugles
exercising the fiddlers by dancing the ladies in turns.
The position, then, of Mr. Sponge was this. He was left on a
frosty, moonlight night at the door of a strange farmhouse, staring
after a receding coach, containing all his recent companions.
" You'll not be goin' wi' 'em then ? " observed Mr. Peastraw,
who stood beside him, listening to the shrill notes of the horn
dying out in the distance.
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 3-W
" No," replied Mr. Sponge.
" Rummy lot," observed Mr. Peastraw, with a shake of the head.
" Are they ? " asked Mr. Sponge.
" Very ! " replied Mr. Peastraw. " Be the death of Sir Harry
among 'em."
" Who are they all ? " asked Mr. Sponge.
" Rubbish ! " replied Peastraw with a sneer, diving his hands
into the depths of his pockets. "Well, we'd better go in,"
added he, pulling his hands out and rubbing them, to betoken
that he felt cold.
Mr. Sponge, not being much of a drinker, was more overcome
with what he had taken than a seasoned cask would have been ;
added to which, the keen night air striking upon his heated frame
soon sent the liquor into his head. He began to feel queer.
" "Well," said he to his host, " I think I'd better be going."
" Where are you bound for ? ' ' asked Mr. Peastraw.
" To Puddingpote Bower," replied Mr. Sponge.
" S-o-o," observed Mr. Peastraw, thoughtfully ; " Mr. Crowdey's
— Mr. Jogglebury that was ? "
" Yes," replied Mr. Sponge.
" He is a deuce of a man, that, for breakin' people's hedges,"
observed Mr. Peastraw ; after a pause " he can't see a straight
stick of no sort, but he's sure to be at it."
" He's a great man for walking-sticks," replied Mr. Sponge,
staggering in the direction of the stable in which he put his
horse.
The house clock then struck ten.
" She's fast," observed Mr. Peastraw, fearing his guest might be
wanting to stay all night.
" How far will Puddingpote Bower be from here ? " asked Mr.
Sponge.
" Oh, no distance, sir, no distance," replied Mr. Peastraw, now
leading out the horse. " Can't miss your way, sir — can't miss
your way. First turn on the right takes you to Collins' Green ;
then keep by the side of the church, next the pond ; then go
straight forward for about a mile and a half, or two miles, till
you come to a small village called Lea Green ; turn short at the
finger-post as you enter, and keep right along by the side of the
hills till you come to the Winslow Woods ; leave them to the left,
and pass by Mr. Roby's farm, at Runton — you'll know Mr.
Roby ? "
" Not I," replied Mr. Sponge, hoisting himself into the saddle,
and holding out a hand to take leave of his host.
" Good night, sir ; good night ! " exclaimed Mr. Peastraw,
shaking it ; " and have the goodness to tell Mr. Crowdey from me
that the next time he comes here a bush-rangin', I'll thank him to
350 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
shut the gates after him. He set all my young stock wrong the
last time he was here."
" I will," replied Mr. Sponge, riding off.
Mr. Peastraw's directions were well calculated to confuse a
clearer head than Mr. Sponge then carried ; and the reader will
not be surprised to learn that, long before he reached the Winslow
Woods, he was regularly bewildered. Indeed, there is no surer
way of losing oneself than trying to follow a long train of direc-
tions in a strange country. It is far better to establish one's own
landmarks, and make for them as the natural course of the
country seems to direct. Our forefathers had a wonderful knack
of getting to points with as little circumlocution as possible. Mr.
Sponge, however, knew no points, and was quite at sea ; indeed,
even if he had, they would have been of little use, for a fitful and
frequently obscured moon threw such bewildering lights and
shades around, that a native would have had some difficulty in
recognising the country. The frost grew more intense, the stars
shone clear and bright, and the cold took our friend by the nape
of the neck, shooting across his shoulder-blades and right down
his back. Mr. Sponge wished and wished he was anywhere
but where he was — flattening his nose against the coffee-room
window of the Bantam, tooling in a hansome as hard as he could
go, squaring along Oxford-street criticising horses — nay, he
wouldn't care to be undergoing Gnstavus James himself — any-
thing, rather than rambling about a strange country in a cold
winter's night, with nothing but the hooting of owls and the
occasional bark of shepherds' dogs to enliven his solitude. The
houses were few and far between. The lights in the cottages had
long been extinguished, and the occupiers of such of the farm-
houses as would come to his knocks were gruff in their answers
and short in their directions. At length, after riding, and riding,
and riding, more with a view of keeping himself awake than in
the expectation of finding his way, just as he was preparing to
arouse the inmates of a cottage by the roadside, a sudden gleam of
moonlight fell upon the building, revealing the half-Swiss, half-
Gothic lodge of Puddingpote Bower.
MB. SPONGE'S SPOUTING- TOUR. 351
CHAPTER XLIX.
PUDDIXGPOTE BOWER.
3USTAVTJS JAMES IN TROUBLE.
We must now back the train a little, and have a look at Jog
and Co.
Mr. and Mrs. Jog had had another squabble after Mr. Sponge's
departure in the morning, Mr. Jog reproving Mrs. Jog for the
interest she seemed to take in Mr. Sponge, as shown by her going
to the door to see him amble away on the piebald hack. Mrs.
Jog justified herself on the score of Gustavus James, with whom
352 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
she was quite sure Mr. Sponge was much struck, and to whom,
she made no doubt, he would leave his ample fortune. Jog, on
the other hand, wheezed and puffed into his frill, and reasserted
that Mr. Sponge was as likely to live as Gustavus James, and to
marry and to have a bushel of children of his own ; while Mrs.
Jog rejoined that he was " sure to break his neck " — breaking
their necks being, as she conceived, the inevitable end of fox-
hunters. Jog, who had not prosecuted the sport of hunting long
enough to be able to gainsay her assertion, though he took especial
care to defer the operation of breaking his own neck as long as he
could, fell back upon the expense and inconvenience of keeping
Mr. Sponge and his three horses, and his saucy servant, who had
taught their domestics to turn up their noses at his diet table ;
above all, at his stick-jaw and undeniable small-beer. So they
went fighting and squabbling on, till at last the scene ended as
usual, by Mrs. Jogglebury bursting into tears, and declaring that
Jog didn't care a farthing either for her or her children. Jog
then bundled off, to try and fashion a most incorrigible-looking,
knotty blackthorn into a head of Lord Chancellor Lyndhurst.
He afterwards took a turn at a hazel that he thought would make
a Joe Hume. Having occupied himself with these till the
children's dinner-hour, he took a wandering, snatching sort of
meal, and then put on his paletot, with a little hatchet in the
pocket, and went off in search of the raw material in his own and
the neighbouring hedges.
Evening came, and with it came Jog, laden, as usual, with an
armful of gibbies, but the shades of night followed evening ere
there was any tidings of the sporting inmates of his house. At
length just as Jog was taking his last stroll prior to going in for
good, he espied a pair of vacillating white breeches coining up the
avenue with a clearly drunken man inside them. Jog stood
straining his eyes watching their movements, wondering whether
they would keep the saddle or come off — whenever the breeches
seemed irrevocably gone, they invariably recovered themselves
with a jerk or a lurch — Jog now saw it was Leather on the pie-
bald, and though he had no fancy for the man, he stood to let
him come up, thinking to hear something of Sponge. Leather in
due time saw the great looming outline of our friend and came
staring and shaking his head endeavouring to identify it. He
thought at first it was the Squire — next he thought it wasn't — then
he was sure it wasn't.
" Oh ! it's you, old boy, is it ? " at last exclaimed he, pulling
up beside the large holly against which our friend had placed
himself, " It's you, old boy, is it ? " repeated he, extending his
right hand and nearly overbalancing himself, adding as he recovered
his equilibrium, " I thought it was the old Woolpack at first,"
ME. SPONGE'S SPOETING TOUE. 353
nodding his head towards the house. "Well," spluttered he,
pulling up, and sitting, as he thought, quite straight in the saddle,
" we've had the finest day's sport and the most equitahle drink
I've enjoyed for many a long day. 'Ord bless us, what a gent
that Sir 'Any is ! He's the sort of man that should have money.
I'm blowed,it'I were queen, but I'd melt all the great blubber-headed
fellows like this 'ere Crowdey down, and make one sich man as
Sir 'Any out of the 'ole on 'em. Beer ! they don't know wot
beer is there ! nothin' but the werry strongest hale, instead of the
puzzon one gets at this awful mean place, that looks like nothin'
but the weshin' o' brewers' haprons. 0 ! I 'umbly begs pardon,"
exclaimed he, dropping from his horse on to his knees on discover-
ing that he was addressing Mr. Crowdey — " I thought it was
Robins, the mole-ketcher."
" Thought it was Robins, the mole-catcher," growled Jog ;
" what have you to do with (puff ) Robins, the (wheeze) mole-
catcher ? "
Jog boiled over with indignation. At first he thought of kick-
ing Leather, a feat that his suppliant position made extremely
convenient, if not tempting. Prudence, however, suggested that
Leather might have him up for the assault. So he stood puffing
and wheezing and eyeing the blearecl-eyed, brandy-nosed old
drunkard with, as he thought, a withering look of contempt ; and
then, though the man was drunk, and the night was dark, he
waddled off, leaving Mr. Leather on his once white breeches' knees.
If Jog had had reasonable time, say an hour or an hour and
twenty minutes, to improvise it in, he would have said something
uncommonly sharp ; as it was he left him with the pertinent
inquiry we have recorded — " What have you to do with Robins,
the mole-catcher?" We need hardly say that this little incident
did not at all ingratiate Mr. Sponge with his host, who re-entered
his house in a worse humour than ever. It was insulting a gentle-
man on his own ter-ri-tory — bearding an Englishman in his own
castle. " Not to be borne (puff)," said Jog.
It was now nearly five o'clock, Jog's dinner-hour, and still no
Mr. Sponge. Mrs. Jog proposed waiting half-an-hour, indeed she
had told Susan, the cook, to keep the dinner back a little, to give
Mr. Sponge a chance, who could not possibly change his tight
hunting things for his evening tights in the short space of time
that Jog could drop off his loose flowing garments, wash his hands,
and run the comb through his lank, candle-like hair.
Five o'clock struck, and Jog was just applying his hand to the
fat red-and-black worsted bell-pull, when Mrs. Jog announced
what she had done.
" Put off the dinner (wheeze), put off the dinner (puff),"
re-peated he, blowing furiously into his clean shirt-frill, which
354 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
stuck np under his nose like a hand-saw ; "put off the dinner
(wheeze), put off the dinner (puff), I wish you wouldn't do such
(wheeze) things without consulting (gasp) me."
" Well, but, my dear, you couldn't possibly sit down without
him," observed Mrs. Jog, mildly.
" Possibly ! (puff), possibly ! (wheeze)," repeated Jog. " There's
no possibly in the matter," retorted he, blowing more furiously
into the frill.
Mrs. Jog was silent.
"A man should conform to the (puff) hours of the (wheeze)
house," observed Jog, after a pause.
" Well, but, my dear, you know hunters are always allowed a little
law," observed Mrs. Jog.
" Law ! (puff), law ! (wheeze)," retorted Jog. " I never want
any law," thinking of Smiler v. Jogglebury.
Half-past five o'clock came, and still no Sponge ; and Mrs. Jog,
thinking it would be better to arrange to have something hot foi
him when he came, than to do further battle with her husband,
gave the bell the double ring indicative of " bring dinner."
"Nay (puff), nay (wheeze) ; when you have (gasp)ed so long,"
growled Jog, taking the other tack, " you might as well have
(wheez)ecl a little longer " — snorting into his frill as he spoke.
Mrs. Jogglebury said nothing, but slipped quietly out, as if after
her keys, to tell Susan to keep so-and-so in the meat-screen, and
have a few potatoes ready to boil against Mr. Sponge arrived.
She then sidled back quietly into the room. Jog and she presently
proceeded to that all-important meal, Jog blowing out the com-
pany-candles on the side table as he passed.
Jog munched away with a capital appetite ; but Mrs. Jog, who
took the bulk of her lading in at the children's dinner, sat trifling
with the contents of her plate, listening alternately for the sound
of horses' hoofs outside, and for nursery squalls in.
Dinner passed over, and the fruity port and sugary sherry soon
usurped the places that stick-jaw pudding and cheese had occupied.
"Mr. (puff) Sponge must be (wheeze), I think," observed Jog,
hauling his great silver watch out, like a bucket, from his fob, on
seeing that it only wanted ten minutes to seven.
" Oh, Jog ! " exclaimed Mrs. Jog, clasping her beautiful hands,
and casting her bright beady eyes up to the low ceiling.
" Oh, Jog ! What's the matter now ? (puff — wheeze — gasp),"
exclaimed our friend, reddening up, and fixing his stupid eyes
intently on his wile.
" Oh, nothing," replied Mrs. Jog, unclasping her hands, and
bringing down her eyes.
"Oh, nothin' !" retorted Jog. " Nothirf /" repeated he.
" Ladies don't orct into such tantrums for nothin'."
iH.fi. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 355
" Well, then, Jog, I was thinking if anything should have ha — -
ha — happened Mr. Sponge, how Grustavus Ja — Ja — James will
have lost his chance." And thereupon she dived for her lace-
fringed pocket-handkerchief, and hurried out of the room.
Bat Mrs. Jog had said quite enough to make the caldren of Jog's
jealousy boil over, and he sat staring into the fire, imagining all
sorts of horrible devices in the coals and cinders, and conjuring up
all sorts of evils, until he felt himself possessed of a hundred and
twenty thousand devils.
" I'll get shot of this chap at last," said he, with a knowing jerk
of his head and a puff into his frill, as he drew his thick legs under
his chair, and made a semicircle to get at the bottle. " I'll get
shot of this chap," repeated he, pouring himself out a bumper of the
syrupy port, and eyeing it at the composite candle. He drained
off the glass, and immediately filled another. That, too, went down ;
then he took another, and another, and another ; and seeing the bottle
get low, he thought he might as well finish it. He felt better after
it. Not that he was a bit more reconciled to our friend Mr. Sponge,
but he felt more equal to cope with him — he even felt as if he could
fight him. There did not, however, seem to be much likelihood
of his having to perform that ceremony, for nine o'clock struck and
no Mr. Sponge, and at half-past Mr. Crowdey stumped off to bed.
Mrs. Crowdey, having given Bartholomew and Susan a dirty
pack of cards to play with to keep them awake till Mr. Sponge
arrived, went to tad, too, and the house was presently tranquil.
It, however, happened, that that amazing prodigy, Gustavus
James, having been out on a sort of eleemosynary excursion among
( he neighbouring farmers and people, exhibiting as well his fine
blue feathered hat, as his astonishing proficiency in "Bah ! bah !
black sheep," and " 'Obin and Ichard," getting seed-cake from
one, sponge-cake from another, and toffy from a third, was troubled
with a very bad stomach-ache during the night, of which he soon
made the house sensible by his screams and his cries. Jog and his
wife were presently at him ; and, as Jog sat in his white cotton
nightcap and flowing flannel dressing-gown in an easy chair in the
nursery, he heard the crack of the whip, and the prolonged yeea-
yu-u-p of Mr. Sponge's arrival. Presently the trampling of a horse
was heard passing round to the stable. The clock then struck one.
" Pretty hour for a man to come homo to a strange house ! "
observed Mr. Jog, for the nurse, or Murry Ann, or Mrs. Jog, or any
one that liked, to take up.
Mrs. Jog was busy with the rhubarb and magnesia, and the
others said nothing. After the lapse of a few minutes, the clank,
clank, clank of Mr. Sponge's spurs was heard as he passed round
to the front, and Mr. Jog stole out on to the landing to hear how
he would tret in.
356 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
Thump ! thump ! thump ! went Mr. Sponge at the door ; rap—
tap — tap, he went at it with his whip.
" Comin', sir ! coinin' ! " exclaimed Bartholomew from the
inside.
Presently the shooting of holts, the withdrawal of bands, and the
opening of doors, were heard.
" Not gone to bed yet, old boy ? " said Mr. Sponge, as he
entered.
" No thir ! " snuffled the boy ; who had a bad cold, "been thitten
up for yon."
" Old puff-and-blow gone ? " asked Mr. Sponge, depositing his
hat and whip on a chair.
The boy gave no answer.
" Is old lellows-to-mend gone to hed ? " asked Mr. Sponge in a
louder voice.
" The charman's gone," replied the boy, who looked upon his
master — the chairman of the Stir-it-stiff Union — as the imper-
sonification of all earthly greatness.
" Dash your impittance," growled Jog, slinking back into the
nursery — "I'll pay you off ! (puff)," added he, with a jerk of hia
white night-capped head, "III lelloivs-to-mencl you ! (wheeze)."
Gustavus James's internal qualms being at length appeased, Mr.
Jogglebury Crowdey returned to bed, but not to sleep — sleep there
was none for him. He was full of indignation and jealousy, and
felt suspicious of the very bolster itself. He had been insulted —
grossly insulted. Three such names — the " Woolpack," " Old puff-
and-blow," and " Bellows-to-mend " — no gentleman, surely, ever
was called before by a guest, in his own house. Called, too, before
his own servant. What veneration, what respect, could a servant
feel for a master whom he heard called " Old Bellows-to-mend ? "
It damaged the respect inspired by the chairmanship of the Stir-it-
stiff Union, to say nothing of the trusteeship of the Sloppyhocks,
Tolpuddle, and other turnpike-roads. It annihilated everything.
So he fumed, and fretted, and snorted, and snored. Worst of all,
he had no one to whom he could unburden his grievance. He
could not make the partner of his bosom a partner in his woes,
because— and he bounced about so that he almost shot the clothes
off the bed, at the thoughts of the "why."
Thus he lay, tumbling and tossing, and fuming and wheezing
and puffing, now vowing vengeance against Leather, who he
recollected had called him the " Woolpack," and determining to
have him turned off in the morning for his impudence — now
devising schemes for getting rid of Mr. Sponge and him together.
Oh, could he but see them oft' ! could he but see the portmanteau
and carpet-bag again standing in the passage, he would gladly lend
his phaeton to carry them anywhere. He would drive it himself
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 357
for the pleasure of knowing and feeling he was clear of them. He
wouldn't haggle about the pikes ; nay, he would even give Spongo
a gibbey, any he liked — the pick of the whole — Wellington,
Napoleon Bonaparte, a crowned head even, though it would
damage the set. So he lay, rolling and restless, hearing every
clock strike ; now trying to divert his thoughts, by making a
rough calculation what all his gibbies put together were worth ; now
considering whether he had forgotten to go for any he had marked
in the course of his peregrinations ; now wishing he had laid one
about old Leather, when he fell on his knees after calling him the
" Woolpack ; " then wondering whether Leather would have had
him before the County Court for damages, or taken him before
Justice Slowcoach for the assault. As morning advanced, his
thoughts again turned upon the best mode of getting rid of his
most unwelcome guests, and he arose and dressed, with the full
determination of trying what he could do.
Having tried the effects of an up-stairs shout the morning before,
he decided to see what a down one would do ; accordingly, he
mounted the stairs and climbed the sort of companion-ladder that
led to the servants attics, where he kept a stock of gibbies in the
rafters. Having reached this, he cleared his throat, laid his head
over the banisters, and putting an open hand on each side of his
mouth to direct the sound, exclaimed with a loud and audible voice.
" Bartholo — m — e— w ! "
" Bar — tho — lo — m — e — e — iv 1 " repeated he, after a pause,
with a full separation of the syllables and a prolonged intonation
of the m — e — w.
No Bartholomew answered.
" Murry Ann ! " then hallooed Jog, in a sharper, quicker key.
" Murry Ann ! " repeated he, still louder, after a pause.
" Yes, sir ! here, sir ! " exclaimed that invaluable servant, tidy-
ing her pink-ribboned cap as she hurried into the passage below.
Looking up, she caught sight of her master's great sallow chaps
hanging like a flitch of bacon over the garret banister.
" Oh, Murry Ann," bellowed Mr. Jog, at the top of his voice,
still holding his hands to his mouth, as soon as he saw her, " Oh,
Murry Ann, you'd better get the (puff) breakfast ready ; I think
the (gasp) Mr. Sponge will be (wheezing) away to day."
" Yes, sir," replied Mary Ann.
" And tell Bartholomew to get his washin' bills in."
" He harn't had no washin' done," replied Mary Ann, raising
her voice to correspond with that of her master.
" Then his bill for postage," replied Mr. Jog, in the same tone.
•' He harn't had no letters neither," replied Mary Ann.
" Oh, then, just get the breakfast ready," rejoined Jog ; adding,
" he'll be (wheezing) away as soon as he gets it, I (puff) expect."
358 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
" Will he," said Mr. Sponge to himself, as, with throbbing hcady
he lay tumbling about in bed, alleviating the recollections of the
previous day's debauch with an occasional dive into his old friend
" Mogg." Corporeally, he was in bed at Puddingpote Bower, but,
mentally, he was at the door of the Goose and Gridiron, in St.
Paul's Churchyard, waiting for the three o'clock buss, coming from
the Bank to take him to Isleworth Gate.
Jog's bellow to "Bartholo — m — e — w" interrupted the journey,,
just as in imagination Mr. Sponge was putting his foot on the
wheel and hallooing to the driver to hand him the strap to help
him on to the box.
" Will he" said Mr. Sponge to himself, as he heard Jog's
reiterated assertion that he would be wheezing away that day.
" Wish you may get it, old boy," added he, tucking the now
backless " Mogg " under his pillow, and turning over for a snooze.
When he got down, he found the party ranged at breakfast,
minus the interesting prodigy, Gustavus James, whom Sponge
proceeded to inquire after as soon as he had made his obeisance to
his host and hostess, and distributed a round of daubed comfits to
the rest of the juvenile party.
"But where's my little friend, Augustus James ? " asked he, on
arriving at the wonder's high chair by the side of mamma. — ■
" Where's my little friend, Augustus James ? " asked he, with an
air of concern.
" Oh, Gustavus James," replied Mrs. Jog, with an emphasis on
Gustavus ; " Gustavus James is not very well this morning ; had a
little indigestion during the night."
"Poor little hound," observed Mr. Sponge, filling his mouth
with hot kidney, glad to be rid for a time of the prodigy. " I
thought I heard a row when I came home, which was rather late
for an early man like me, but the fact was, nothing would serve Sir
Harry but I should go with him to get some refreshment at a
tenant's of his ; and we got on, talking first about one thing, and
then about another, and the time slipped away so quickly, that
day was gone before I knew where I was ; and though Sir Harry
was most anxious — indeed, would hardly take a refusal — for me to
go home with him, I felt that, being a guest here, I couldn't do it, —
at least, not then ; so I got my horse, and tried to find my way
with such directions as the farmer gave me, and soon lost my way,
for the moon was uncertain, and the country all strange both to me
and my horse.'''
" What farmer was it?" asked Jog, with the butter streaming
down the gutters of his chin from a mouthful of thick toast.
" Farmer — farmer — farmer, — let me see, what farmer it was,"
replied Mr. Sponge, thoughtfully, again attacking the kidneys.
" Oh, farmer Beanstraw, I should say."
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 350
" Paastraw, p'raps ? " suggested Jog, colouring up, and staring
intently at Mr. Sponge.
" Pea — Peastraw was the name," replied Mr. Sponge.
" I know him," said Jog ; " Peastraw of Stoke."
" Ah, he said he knew you," replied Mr. Sponge.
" Did he ? " asked Jog, eagerly. " What did he say ? "
" Say — let me see what he said," replied he, pretending to
recollect. " He said ' you are a deuced good feller,' and I'd to
make his compliments to you, and to say that there were some nice
young ash saplings on his farm that you were welcome to cut."
" Did he ? " exclaimed Jog ; " I'm sure that's very (puff) polite
of him. I'll (wheeze) over there the first opportunity."
" And what did you make of Sir Harry ? " asked Mrs. Jog.
" Did you (puff) say you were going to (wheeze) over to him ? "
asked Jog, eagerly.
" I told him I'd go to him before I left the country," replied
Mr. Sponge, carelessly ; adding, " Sir Harry is rather too fast a
man for me."
" Too fast for himself, I should think," observed Mrs. Jog.
" Fine (puff — wheeze) young man," growled Jog into the bottom
of his cup.
" Have you known him long ? " asked Mrs. Jogglebury.
" Oh, we fox-hunters all know each other," replied Mr. Sponge,
evasively.
"Well, now that's what I tell Mr. Jogglebury," exclaimed she.
" Mr. Jog's so shy, that there's no getting him to do what he
ought," added the lady. " No one, to hear him, would think he's
the great man he is."
" Ought (puff) — ought (wheeze)," retorted Jog, puffing furiously
into his capacious shirt-frill. " It's one (puff) thing to know (puff)
people out with the (wheeze) hounds, and another to go calling
them at their (gasp) houses."
" Well, but, my dear, that's the way people make acquaintance,"
replied his wife. " Isn't it, Mr. Sponge ? " continued she, appealing
to our friend.
" Oh, certainly," replied Mr. Sponge, " certainly ; all men are
equal out hunting."
" So I say," exclaimed Mrs. Jogglebury ; " and yet I can't get
Jog to call on Sir George Stiff, though he meets him frequently out
hunting."
" Well, but then I can't (puff) upon him out hunting (wheeze),
and then we're not all equal (gasp) when we go home."
So saying, our friend rose from his chair, and after giving each
leg its usual shake, and banging his pockets behind to feel that he
had his keys safe, he strutted consequentially up to the window to
see how the day looked.
330
MB. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TO UP.
Mr. Sponge, not being desirous of continuing the u calling "
controversy, especially as it might lead to inquires relative to his
acquaintance with Sir Harry, finished the contents of his plate
quickly, drank up his tea, and was presently alongside of his host,
asking him whether he " was good for a ride, a walk, or what ? "
"A (puff) ride, a (wheeze) walk, or a (gasp) what ?" repeated
Jog, thoughtfully. " No, I (puff) think I'll stay at (puff) home,"
thinking that would be the safest plan.
" Ord, hang it, you'll never lie at earth such a day as this ! "
exclaimed Sponge, looking out on the bright, sunny landscape.
" Got a great deal to do," retorted Jog, who, like all thoroughly
idle men, was always dreadfully busy. He then dived into a
bundle of rough sticks, aud proceeded to select one to fashion into
the head of Mr. Hume. Sponge, being unable to make anything
of him, was obliged to exhaust the day in the stable, and in
sauntering about the country. It was clear Jog was determined t<>
be rid of him, and he was sadly puzzled what to do. Dinner found
his host in no better humour, and after a sort of Quaker's meeting
of an evening, they parted heartily sick of each other.
CHAPTER L.
THE TRIGGER.
JOG slept badly
again, and
arose next
morning full
of projects for
getting rid of
his impudent,
unceremoni-
ous, free-and-
easy guest.
Having tried
both an up
and a down-
stairs shout, he
now went out
and planted
himself immediately under Mr. Sponge's bedroom window, and,
clearing his voice, commenced his usual vociferations.
" Bartholo — m — e — iv ! " whined he. " Bartliolo — m — e — w I "
MR. SPONGE (JIVES PONTO A LESSON.
3IR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 3C1
repeated he, somewhat louder. " Bar — tholo — m — e — w ! "
roared he, in a voice of thunder.
Bartholomew did not answer.
" Murry Ann ! " exclaimed Jog, after a pause. " Murry Ann ! "
repeated he, still louder. " Murry Ann ! " roared he, at the top
of his voice.
" Comin', sir! comin' !" exclaimed Mary Ann, peeping down
upon him from the garret-window.
" Oh, Murry Ann," cried Mr. Jog, looking up, and catching the
ends of her blue ribbons streaming past the window-frame, as she
-changed her nightcap for a day one, — " Oh, Murry Ann, you'd
better be (puff)in' forrard with the (gasp) breakfast ; Mr. Sponge
'll most likely be (wheezc)in' away to-day."
" Yes, sir," replied Mary Ann, adjusting the cap becomingly.
" Confounded, puffing, wheezing, gasping, broken-winded old
blockhead it is ! " growled Mr. Sponge, wishing he could get to
his former earth at Puffington's, or anywhere else. "When he got
down he found Jog in a very roomy, bright, green-plush shooting-
jacket, with pockets innumerable, and a whistle suspended to a
button-hole. His nether man was encased in a pair of most
dilapidated white moleskins, that had been degraded from hunting
into shooting ones, and whose cracks and darns showed the perils
to which their wearer had been exposed. Below these were drab,
horn-buttoned gaiters, and hob-nailed shoes.
" Going a-gunning, are you ? " asked Mr. Sponge, after the
morning salutation, which Jog returned most gruffly.
" I'll go with you," said Mr. Sponge, at once dispelling the de-
lusion of his wheezing away.
" Only going to frighten the (puff) rooks off the (gasp) wheat,"
replied Jog, carelessly, not wishing to let Sponge see what a numb
hand he was with a gun.
"I thought you told me you were going to get me a hare,"
observed Mrs. Jog ; adding, " I'm sure shooting is a much more
rational amusement than tearing your clothes going after the
hounds," eyeing the much-dilapidated moleskins as she spoke.
Mrs. Jog found shooting more useful than hunting.
" Oh, if a (puff) hare comes in my (gasp) way, I'll turn her
over," replied Jog, carelessly, as if turning them over was quite a
matter of course with him ; adding, " but I'm not (wheezing) out
for the express purpose of shooting one."
" Ah, well," observed Sponge, " I'll go with you, all the same."
" But I've only got one gun," gasped Jog, thinking it would be
worse to have Sponge laughing at his shooting than even leaving
him at home.
" Then, we'll ihoot turn and turnabout," replied the pertinacious
guest.
3G2 ilf.fi. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
Jog did his best to dissuade him, observing that the birds were
(puff) scarce and (wheeze) wild, and the (gasp) hares much
troubled with poachers ; but Mr. Sponge wanted a walk, and
moreover had a fancy for seeing Jog handle his gun.
Having cut himself some extremely substantial sandwiches, and
filled his " monkey " full of sherry, our friend Jog slipped out the
back way to loosen old Ponto, who acted the triple part of pointer,
house-dog, and horse to Gustavus James. He was a great fat,
black-and-white brute, with a head like a hat-box, a tail like a
clothes-peg, and a back as broad as a well-fed sheep's. The old
brute was so frantic at the sight of his master in his green coat,
and wide-awake to match, that he jumped and bounced, and
barked, and rattled his chain, and set up such yells, that his noise
sounded all over the house, and soon brought Mr. Sponge to the
scene of action, where stood cur friend, loading his gun and looking
as consequential as possible.
" I shall only just take a (puff) stroll over moy (wheeze) ter-ri-
to-ry," observed Jog, as Mr. Sponge emerged at the back door.
Jog's pace was about two miles and a half an hour, stoppages
included, and he thought it advisable to prepare Mr. Sponge for
the trial. He then shouldered his gun and waddled away, first
over the stile into Farmer Stiffland's stubble, round which Ponto
ranged in the most riotous, independent way, regardless of Jog's
whistles and rates, and the crack of his little knotty whip. Jog
then crossed the old pasture into Mr. Lowland's turnips, into-
which Ponto dashed in the same energetic way, but these impedi-
ments to travelling soon told on his great buttermilk carcass,
and brought him to a more subdued pace ; still, the dog had a
good deal more energy than his master. Pound he went, sniffing
and hunting, then dashing right through the middle of the field,
as if he was out on his own account alone, and had nothing
whatever to do with a master.
" Why, your dog'll spring all the birds out of shot," observed
Mr. Sponge ; and, just as he spoke, whirr ! rose a. covey of
partridges, eleven in number, quite at an impossible distance, but
Jog blazed away all the same.
" Ord rot it, man ! if you'd only held your (something) tongue,"
growled Jog, as he shaded the sun from his eyes to mark them
down, " I'd have (wheezed) half of them over."
" Nonsense, man ! " replied Mr. Sponge. " They were a mile
out of shot."
"I think I should know my (puff) gun better than (wheeze)
you," replied Jog, bringing it clown to load.
" They're down ! " exclaimed Mr. Sponge, who, having watched
them till they began to skim in their flight, saw them stop, flap
their wings, and drop among some straggling gorse on the hill
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
363
before them. " Let's break the covey ; we shall bag- them better
singly."
"Take time (puff)," replied Jog, snorting into his frill, and
measuring out his powder most leisurely. " Take time (wheeze),"
repeated lie ; " they're just on the bounds of moy ter-ri-to-ry."
Jog had had many a game at romps with these birds, and knew
their haunts and habits to a nicety. The covey consisted of
thirteen at first, but by repeated blazings into the " brown of 'em,"
he had succeeded in knocking down two. Jog was not one of your
conceited shots, who never fired but when he was sure of killing ;
FRANTIC DELIGHT OF PONTO.
on the contrary, he always let drive far or near ; and even if he
shot a hare, which he sometimes did, with the first barrel, he
always popped the second into her, to make sure. The chairman's
shooting afforded amusement to the neighbourhood. On one
occasion a party of reapers, having watched'him miss twelve shots
iu succession, gave him three cheers on coming to the thirteenth.
— But to our day. Jog had now got his gun reloaded with mis-
chief, the cap put on, and all ready for "a fresh start. Ponto,
meanwhile, had been ranging, Jog thinking it better to let him
take the edge off his ardour' than conform" to the strict rules of
lying down or coming to heel.
" JSTow, let's on," cried Mr. Sponge, stepping out quickly.
3G4 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
" Take time (puff), take time (wheeze)," gasped Jog, waddling
along ; " better let 'em settle a little (puff). Better let 'em settle
a little (gasp)," added he, labouring on.
" Oh no, keep them moving," replied Mr. Sponge, — " keep them
moving. Only get at 'em on the hill, and drive 'em into the fields
below, and we shall have rare fun."
" But the (puff) fields below are not mine," gasped Jog.
" "Whose are they ? " asked Mr. Sponge.
" Oh (puff*), Mrs. Moses's," gasped Jog. " My stoopid old
uncle," continued he, stopping, and laying hold of Mr. Sponge's
arm, as if to illustrate his position, but in reality to get breath, —
" my stoopid old uncle (puff) missed buying that (wheeze) land
when old Harry Griperton died. I only wanted that to make moy
(wheeze) ter-ri-to-ry extend all the (gasp) way up to Cockwhistle
Park there," continued he, climbing on to a stile they now ap-
proached, and setting aside the top stone. " That's Cockwhistle
Park, up there — just where you see the (puff) windmill — then
(puff) moy (wheeze) ter-ri-to-ry comes up to the (wheeze) fallow
you see all yellow with runch ; and if my old (puff) uncle (wheeze)
Crowdey had had the sense of a (gasp) goose, he'd have (wheezed)
that when it was sold. Moy (puff) name was (wheeze) Joggle-
bury," added he, " before my (gasp) uncle died."
" Well, never mind about that," replied Mr. Sponge ; " let us
go on after these birds."
" Oh, we'll (puff) up to them presently," observed Jog, labouring
away, with half a ton of clay at each foot, the sun having dispelled
the frost where it struck, and made the land carry.
" Presently ! " retorted Mr. Sponge. " But you should make
haste, man."
" Well, but let me go my own (puff) pace," snapped Jog,
labouring away.
" Pace ! " exclaimed Mr. Sponge, " your own crawl, you should
say."
" Indeed ! " growled Jog, with an angry snort.
They now got through a well-established cattle-gap into a very
rushy, squashy, gorse-grown pasture, at the bottom of the rising
ground on which Mr. Sponge had marked the birds. Ponto,
whose energetic exertions had been gradually relaxing, until he
had settled down to a leisurely hunting-dog, suddenly stood trans-
fixed, with the right foot up, and his gaze settled on a rushy tuft.
" P-o-o-n-lo J '" ejaculated Jog, expecting every minute to see
him dash at it. " P-o-o-n-to ! " repeated he, raising his hand.
Mr Sponge stood on the tip-toe of expectation ; Jog raised his
wide-awake hat from his eyes, and advanced cautiously with the
engine of destruction cocked. Up started a great hare ; bang !
went the gun with the hare none the worse. Bang ! went the
MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 3CD
other barrel, "which the hare acknowledged by two or three
stotting bounds and an increase of pace.
" Well missed ! " exclaimed Mr. Sponge.
Away went Ponto in pursuit.
" P-o-o-n-fo ! " shrieked Jog, stamping with rege.
" I could have wiped your nose," exclaimed Mr. Sponge, cover-
ing the hare with a hedge-stake placed to his shoulder like a gun.
" Could you ? " growled Jog ; " 'spose you wipe your own,"
added he, not understanding the meaning of the term.
Meanwhile, old Ponto went rolling away most energetically, the
farther he went the farther he was left behind, till the hare
having scuttled out of sight, he wheeled about and came leisurely
back, as if he was doing all right.
Jog was very wrath, and vented his anger on the dog, which,
he declared, had caused him to miss, vowing, as he rammed away
at the charge, that he never missed such a shot before. Mr.
Sponge stood eyeing him with a look of incredulity, thinking that
a man who could miss such a shot could miss anything. They
were now all ready for a fresh start, and Ponto, having pocketed
his objurgation, dashed forward again up the rising ground over
which the covey had dropped.
Jog's thick wind was a serious impediment to the expeditious
mounting of the hill, and the dog seemed aware of his infirmity,
and to take pleasure in aggravating him.
" P-o-o-n-lo ! " gasped Jog, as he slipped, and scrambled, and
toiled, sorely impeded by the incumbrance of his gun.
But P-o-o-n-to heeded him not. He knew his master couldn't
catch him, and if he did, that he durstn't flog him.
" P-o-o-n-lo ! " gasped Jog again, still louder, catching at a bush
to prevent his slipping back. " T-o-o-h-o-o ! P-o-o-n-lo ! " wheezed
he ; but the dog just rolled his great stern, and bustled about
more actively than ever.
" Hang ye ! but I'd cut you in two if I had you ! " exclaimed
Mr. Sponge, eyeing his independent proceedings.
"He's not a bad (puff) dog," observed Jog, mopping the
perspiration from his brow.
" He's not a good 'un," retorted Mr. Sponge.
" D'ye think not (wheeze) ? " asked Jog.
"Sure of it," replied Sponge.
" Serves me," growled Jog, labouring up the hill.
" Easy served," replied Mr. Sponge, whistling, and eyeing the
independent animal.
" T-o-o-h-o-o ! P-o-o-n-lo / " gasped Jog, as he dashed forward
on reaching level ground more eagerly than ever.
"P-o-o-n-to/ T-o-o-h-o-o!" repeated he, in a still louder tone,
with the same success.
SCO MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
"You'd better get up to him," observed Mr. Sponge, "or hc1II
spring all the birds."
Jog, however, blundered on at his own pace, growling —
"Most (puff) haste, least (wheeze) speed."
The dog was now fast drawing upon where the birds lit ; and
Mr. Sponge and Jog having reached the top of the hill, Mr. Sponge
stood still to watch the result.
Up whirred four birds out of a patch of gorse behind the dog,
all presenting most beautiful shots. Jog blazed a barrel at them
without touching a feather, and the report of the gun immediately
raised three brace more, into the thick of which he fired with
similar success. They all skimmed away unhurt.
" "Well missed ! " exclaimed Mr. Sponge again. " You're what
they call a good shooter but a bad hitter."
" You're what they call a (wheeze) fellow," growled Jog
He meant to say "saucy" but the word wouldn't rise. He
then commenced re-loading his gun, and lecturing P-o-o-n-to, who
still continued his exertions, and inwardly anathematising Mr.
Sponge. He wished he had left him at home. Then recollecting
Mrs. Jog, he thought perhaps he was as well where he was.
Still his presence made him shoot worse than usual, and there Avas
no occasion for that.
" Let me have a shot now," said Mr. Sponge.
" Shot (puff) — shot (wheeze) ; well, take a shot if you choose,"
replied he.
Just as Mr. Sponge got the gun, up rose the eleventh bird, and
he knocked it over.
" That's the way to do it ! " exclaimed Mr. Sponge, as the bird
fell dead before Ponto.
The excited dog, unused to such desceuts, snatched it up and
ran off. Just as he was getting out of shot, Mr. Sponge fired the
other barrel at him, causing him to drop the bird and run yelping
and howling away. Jog was furious. He stamped, and gasped,
and fumed, and wmeezed, and seemed like to burst with anger and
indignation. Though the dog ran away as hard as he could lick,
Jog insisted that he was mortally wounded, and would die. " He
never saw so (wheeze) a thing done. He wouldn't have taken
twenty pounds for the dog. No, he wouldn't have taken thirty.
Porty wouldn't have bought him. He was worth fifty of anybody's
money," and so he went on, fuming and advancing his value as
he spoke.
Mr. Sponge stole away to where the dog had dropped the bird ;
and Mr. Jog, availing himself of his absence, retraced his steps
down the hill, and struck off home at a much faster pace than he
came. Arrived there, he found the dog in the kitchen, somewhat
sore from the visitation of the shot, but not sufficiently injured to
MB. SPONGE'S SPOBTING TOUR.
367
prevent his enjoying a most liberal plate of stick-jaw pudding,
supplied by a general contribution of the servants. Jog's wrath
was then turned in another direction, and he blew up for the waste
and extravagance of the act, hinting pretty freely that he knew
who it was that had set them against it. Altogether he was full
of troubles, vexations, and annoyances ; and after spending
another most disagreeable evening with our friend Sponge, went
to bed more determined than ever to get rid of him.
CHAPTER LI.
NONSUCH HOUSE AGAIN.
DOMESTIC ECONOMY OF NOXSUCIi HOUSE.
Poor Jog again varied his hints the next morning. After
sundry prefatory " Murry Anns ! " and " Bar-tho-lo-mei0S / " he at
length got the latter to answer, when, raising his voice so as to fill
the whole house, he desired him to go to the stable, and let Mr.
Sponge's man know his master would be (wheezing) away.
" You're wrong there, old buck," growled Leather, as he heard
the foregoing ; " he's half way to Sir 'Arry's by this time."
And, sure enough, Mr. Sponge was, as none knew better than
Leather, who had got him his horse, the hack being indisposed, —
that is to say, having been out all night with Mr. Leather on a
drinking excursion, Leather having just got home in time to
receive the purple-coated, bare-footed runner of Nonsuch House,
who dropped in, en -passant, to see if there was anything to stow
3G3 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
away in his roomy trouser-pockets, and leave word that Sir Harry
was going to hunt, and would meet before the house.
Leather, though somewhat muzzy, was sufficiently sober to be
able to deliver this message, and acquaint Mr. Sponge with the
impossibility of his "ridin' the 'ac." Indeed, he truly said, that
he had " been hup with him all night, and at one time thought it
was all hover with him," the all-overishness consisting of Mr.
Leather being nearly all over the hack's head, in consequence of
the animal shying at another drunken man lying across the road.
Mr. Sponge listened to the recital with the indifference of a man
who rides hack-horses, and coolly observed that Leather must take
on the chestnut, and he would ride the brown to cover.
" Couldn't, sir, couldrit" replied Leather, with a shake of the
head and a twinkle of his roguish, watery grey eyes.
" Why not ? " asked Mr. Sponge, who never saw any difficulty.
" Oh, sur," replied Leather, in a tone of despondency, " it would
be quite impossible. Consider wot a day the last one was ; why,
he didn't get to rest till three the next mornin'."
" It'll only be walking exercise," observed Mr. Sponge ; " do
him good."
"Better valk the chestnut," rejolied Mr. Leather ; "Multum-in-
Parvo hasn't 'ad a good day this I don't know wen, and will be
all the better of a bucketin'."
" But I hate crawling to cover on my horse," replied Mr. Sponge,
who liked cantering along with a flourish.
'' You'll 'ave to crawl if you ride 'Ercles," observed Leather, "if
not walk. Bless you 1 I've been a nussin' of him and the 'ack
most the 'ole night."
" Indeed ! " replied Mr. Sponge, who began to be alarmed lest
his hunting might be brought to an abrupt termination.
"True, as I'm 'ere," rejoined Leather. "He's just as much off
his grub as he vos when he com'd in ; never see'd an 'oss more
reg'larly dished — more "
" Well, well," said Mr. Sponge, interrupting the catalogue of
grievances ; " I s'pose I must do as you say — I s'pose I must do-
as you say : what sort of a day is it ? "
" Vy, the day's not a bad day ; at least, that's to say, it's not a
wery haggrivatin' day. I've seen a betterer day, in course ; but
I've also seen many a much worser day, and days at this time of
year, you know, are apt to change, — sometimes, in course, for the
betterer — sometimes, in course, for the worser."
" Is it a frost ? " snapped Mr. Sponge, tired of his loquacity.
" Is it a frost ?" repeated Mr. Leather, thoughtfully ; "is it a
fi-ost ? Vy, no ; I should say it isn't a frost, — at least, not a frost
to 'urt ; there may be a little rind on the ground and a little
rawness in the hair, but the general concatenation "
MB. SPONGE'S SPOBTING TOUB. 3C9
" Hout, tout ! " exclaimed Mr. Sponge, "let's have none of jonr
dictionary words."
Mr. Leather stood silent, twisting his hat about.
The consequence of all this was, that Mr. Sponge determined
to ride over to Nonsuch House to breakfast, which would give his
horse half an hour in the stable to eat a feed of corn. Accordingly,
he desired Leather to bring him his shaving-water, and have the
horse ready in the stable in half an hour, whither, in due time,
Mr. Sponge emerged by the back door, without encountering any
of the family. The ambling piebald looked so crestfallen and
woe-begone in all the swaddling-clothes in which Leather had got
him enveloped, that Mr. Sponge did not care to look at the gallant
Hercules, who occupied a temporary loose box at the far end of
the dark stable, lest he might look worse. He, therefore, just
mounted Multum-in-Parvo as Leather led him out at the door, and
set off without a word.
" Well, hang me but you are a good judge of weather," ex-
claimed Sponge to himself, as he got into the held at the back of
the house, and found the horse made little impression on the grass.
" No frost ! " repeated he, breathing into the air ; " why, it's
freezing now, out of the sun."
On getting into Marygold Lane, our friend drew rein, and was
for turning back, but the resolute chestnut took the bit between
his teeth and shook his head, as if determined to go on.
" Oh, you brute I " growled Mr. Sponge, letting the spurs into
his sides with a hearty good-wTill, which caused the animal to kick,
as if he meant to stand on his head. " Ah, you will, wili ye ? "
exclaimed Mr. Sponge, letting the spurs in again as the animal
replaced his legs on the ground. Up they went again, if possible
higher than before.
The brute was clearly full of mischief, and even if the hounds
did not throw off, which there was little prospect of their doing
from the appearance of the weather, Mr. Sponge felt that it woulp
be well to get some of the nonsense taken out of him ; and,
moreover, going to Nonsuch House, would give him a chance of
establishing a billet there — a chance that he had been deprived of
by Sir Harry's abrupt departure from Farmer Peastraw's. So
saying, our friend gathered his horse together, and settling himself
in his saddle, made his sound hoofs ring upon the hard road.
" He may hunt," thought Mr. Sponge, as he rattled along ;
" such a rum beggar as Sir Harry may think it fun to go out in
a frost. It's hard, too," said he, as he saw the poor turnip-
pullers enveloped in their thick shawls, and watched them thump-
ing their arms against their sides to drive the cold from their
finger ends.
Multum-in-Parvo was a good sound-constitutioned horse, hard
370 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
and firm as a cricket-ball, a horse that would not turn a hair for a
trifle even on a hunting morning, let alone on such a thorough
chiller as this one was ; and Mr. Sponge, after goiug along at a
good round pace, and getting over the ground much quicker than
he did when the road was all new to him, and he had to ask his
way, at length drew in to see what o'clock it was. It was only
half-past nine, and already in the far distance he saw the encircling
woods of Nonsuch House.
" Shall be early," said Mr. Sponge, returning his watch to his
waistcoat-pocket, and diving into his cutty coat-pocket for the
cigar-case. . Having struck a light, he now laid the rein on the
horse's neck and proceeded leisurely along, the animal stepping
gaily and throwing its head about as if he was the quietest, most
trustworthy nag in the world. If he got there at half-past ten,
Mr. Sponge calculated he would have plenty of time to see after his
horse, get his own breakfast, and see how the land lay for a billet.
It would be impossible to hunt before twelve ; so he went smok-
ing and sauntering along, now wondering whether he would be
able to establish a billet, now thinking how he would like to sell
Sir Harry a horse, then considering whether he would be likely to
pay for him, and enlivening the general reflections by ringing his
spurs against his stirrup-irons.
Having passed the lodges at the end of the avenue, he cocked
his hat, twiddled his hair, felt his tie, and arranged for a becoming
appearance. The sudden turn of the road brought him full upon
the house. How changed the scene ! Instead of the scarlet-
coated youths thronging the gravelled ring, flourishing their
scented kerchiefs and hunting-whips — instead of buxom Abigails
and handsome mistresses hanging out of the windows, flirting and
chatting and ogling, the door was shut, the blinds were down, the
shutters closed, and the whole house had the appearance of
mourning.
Mr. Sponge reined up involuntarily, startled at the change of
scene. What could have happened ! Could Sir Harry be dead ?
Could my lady have eloped ? "Oh, that horrid Bugles ! " thought
he ; "he looked like a gay deceiver." And Mr. Sponge felt as if
he had sustained a personal injury.
Just as these thoughts were passing in his mind, a drowsy,
slatternly charwoman, in an old black straw bonnet and grey bed-
gown, opened one of the shutters, and throwing up the sash of
the window by where Mr. Sponge sat, disclosed the contents of
the apartment. The last waxlight was just dying out in the
centre of a splendid candelabra on the middle of a table scattered
about with claret-jugs, glasses, decanters, pine-apple tops, grape-
dishes, cakes, anchovy-toast plates, devilled biscuit-racks — all the
concomitaiits.of a sumptuous entertainment.
MB. SPONGE'S SPOBTING TOUB. 371
" Sir Harry at home ? " asked Mr. Sponge, making the woman
sensible of his presence, by cracking his whip close to her ear.
" No," replied the dame, gruffly, commencing an assault upon
the nearest chair with a duster.
" Where is he ? " asked our friend.
" Bed, to be sure," replied the woman, in the same tone.
" Bed, to be sure," repeated Mr. Sponge. " I don't think there's
any ' sure - in the case. Do you know what o'clock it is ?" asked he.
" No," replied the woman, flopping away at another chair, and
arranging the crimson velvet curtains on the holders.
Mr. Sponge was rather nonplussed. His red coat did not
command the respect that a red coat generally does. The fact
was, they had such queer people in red coats at Nonsuch House,
that a red coat was rather an object of suspicion than otherwise.
" Well, but my good woman," continued Mr. Sponge, softening
his tone, " can you teU me where I shall find anybody who can tell
me anything about the hounds ? "
" No," growled the woman, still flopping, and whisking, and
knocking the furniture about.
''• I'll remember you for your trouble," observed Mr. Sponge,
diving his right hand into his breeches' pocket.
" Mr. Bottleends be gone to bed," observed the woman, now
ceasing her evolutions, and parting her grisly, disordered tresses,
as she advanced and stood staring, with her arms akimbo, out of
the window. She was the under-housemaid's deputy ; all the
servants at Nonsuch House doing the rough of their work by
deputy. Lady Scattercash was a real lady, and liked to have the
credit of the house maintained, which of course can only be done
by letting the upper servants do nothing. " Mr. Bottleends be
gone to bed," observed the woman.
" Mr. Bottleends ? " repeated Mr. Sponge ; " who's he ? "
"The butler, to be sure," replied she, astonished that any person
should have to ask who such an important personage was.
" Can't you call him ? " asked Mr. Sponge, still "fumbling in his
pocket.
" Couldn't, if it was ever so," replied the dame, smoothing her
dirty blue-checked apron with her still dirtier hand.
" Why not ? " asked Mr. Sponge.
" Why not ? " repeated the woman ; " why, 'cause Mr. Bottleends
won't be disturbed by no one. He said when he went to bed that
he hadn't to be called till to-morrow."
" Not called till to-morrow ! " exclaimed Mr. Sponge ; " then is
Sir Harry from home ? "
" From home, no ; what should put that i' your head ? " sneered
the woman.
" Why, if the butler's in bed, one may suppose the master's away."
B B 2
372 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
"Hout!" snapped the woman; "Sir Harry's i' bed — Captin
See dey buck's i' bed — Captin Quod's i' bed — Captin Spangle's i'
bed-— Captin Bouncey's i' bed — Captin Cutitfat's i' bed — they're
all i' bed 'cept me, and I've got the house to clean and right, and
high time it was cleaned and righted, for they've not been i' bed
these three nights any on 'em." So saying, she flourished her
duster as if about to set-to again.
" Well, but tell me," exclaimed Mr. Sponge, " can I see the foot-
man, or the huntsman, or the groom, or a helper, or anybody."
" Deary knows," replied the woman, thoughtfully, resting her
chin on her hand. " I dare say they'll be all i' bed too."
" But they are going to hunt, arn't they ? " asked our friend.
" Hunt! " exclaimed the woman ; " what should put that i' your
head."
" Why, they sent me word they were."
" It'll be i' bed then," observed she, again giving symptoms of
a desire to return to her dusting.
Mr. Sponge, who still kept his hand in his pocket, sat on his
horse in a state of stupid bewilderment. He had never seen a case
of this sort before — a house shut up, and a master of hounds in
bed when the hounds were to meet before the door. It couldn't
be the case : the woman must be dreaming, or drunk, or both.
" Well, but my gocd woman," exclaimed he, as she gave a
punishing cut at the chair, as if to make up for lost time ; " well,
but my good woman, I wish you would try and find somebody who
can tell me something about the hounds. I'm sure they must be
going to hunt. I'll remember you for your trouble, if you will,"
added he, again diving his hand up to the wrist in his pucket.
" I tell you," replied the woman slowly and deliberately,
" there'll be no huntin' to day. Huntin' ! " exclaimed she ; " how
can they hunt when they've all had to be carried to bed."
" Cari-ied to bed ! had they ? " exclaimed Mr. Sponge ; " what,
were they drunk ? "
" Drunk ! aye, to be sure. What would you have them be ? "
replied the crone, who seemed to think that drinking was a
necessary concomitant of hunting.
" Well, but I can see the footman or somebody, surely,"
observed Mr. Sponge, fearing that his chance was out for a billet,
and recollecting old Jog's " Bartholo-m-e-ws / " and " Murry
Anns ! " and iutimations for him to start.
" 'Deed you can't," replied the dame — " ye can see nebody but
me," added she, fixing her twinkling eyes intently upon him as she
spoke.
" Well, that's a pretty go," observed Mr. Sponge aloud to him-
self, ringing his spurs against his stirrup-irons.
" Pretty go or ugly go," snapped the woman, thinking it was a
MB. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR. 373
reflection on herself, "it's all you'll get;" and thereupon she gave
the back of the chair a hearty bastinadoing as if in exemplification
of the way she would like to serve Mr. Sponge out for the observation.
" I came here thinking to get some breakfast," observed Mr.
Sponge, casting an eye upon the disordered table, and recon-
noitring the bottles and the remains of the dessert.
" Did you," said the woman ; " I wish you may get it."
" I wrish I may," replied he. " If you would manage that for
me, just some coffee and a mutton chop or two, I'd remember you,"
said he, still tantalising her with the sound of the silver in his pocket.
" Me manish it ! " exclaimed the woman, her hopes again rising
at the sound ; " me manish it ! how d'ye think I'm to manish
sich things ? " asked she.
" Why, get at the cook, or the housekeeper, or somebody," replied
Mr. Sponge.
" Cook or housekeeper ! " exclaimed she. " There'll be no cook
or housekeeper astir here these many hours yet ; I question," added
she, " they get up to-day."
" What ! they've been put to bed too, have they ? " asked he.
" W-h-y no — not zactly that," drawled the woman ; " but when
sarvants are kept up three nights out of four, they must make up
for lost time when they can."
"Well," mused Mr. Sponge, "this is a bother, at all events ;
get no breakfast, lose my hunt, and perhaps a billet into the
bargain. Well, there's sixpence for you, my good woman," said he
at length, drawing his hand out of his pocket and handing her the
contents through the window ; adding, " don't make a beast of
yourself with it."
" It's nahhut /oia-pencc," observed the woman, holding it out on
the palm of her hand.
"Ah, well, you're welcome to it whatever it is," replied our
friend, turning his horse to go away. A thought then struck him.
" Could you get me a pen and ink, think you ? " asked he ; " I
want to write a line to Sir Harry."
"Pen and ink!" replied the woman, who had pocketed the
groat and resumed her dusting ; " I don't know where they keep
no such things as penses and inkses."
"Most likely in the drawing-room or the sitting-room, or
perhaps in the butler's pantry," observed Mr. Sponge.
" Well, you can come in and see," replied the woman, thinking
there was no occasion to give herself any more trouble for the four-
penny-piece.
Our worthy friend sat on his horse a few seconds staring intently
into the dining-room window, thinking that lapse of time might
cause the fourpenny-piece to be sufficiently respected to procure
him something like directions how to proceed as well to get rid of
374 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
his horse, as to procure access to the house, the door of which
stood frowniiigly shut. In this, however, he was mistaken, for no
sooner had the woman uttered the words, " Well, you can come in
and see," than she flaunted into the interior of the room, and
commenced a regular series of assaults upon the furniture, throw-
ing the hearthrug over one chair back, depositing the fire-irons in
another, rearing the steel fender up against the Carrara marble
chimney-piece, and knocking things about in the independent way
that servants treat unoffending furniture, when master and mistress
are comfortably ensconced in bed. "Flop" went the duster again ;
" bang " went the furniture ; " knock " this chair went against
that, and she seemed bent upon putting all things into that happy
state of sixes and sevens that characterises a sale of household
furniture, when chairs mount tables, and the whole system of
domestic economy is revolutionised. Seeing that he was not
going to get anything more for his money, our friend at length
turned his horse and found his way to the stables by the unerring
drag of carriage-wheels. All things there being as matters were
in the house, he put the redoubtable nag into a stall, and helped
him to a liberal measure of oats out of the well-stored unlocked
corn -bin. He then sought the back of the house by the worn
flaggcd-way that connected it with the stables. The back yard
was in the admired confusion that might be expected from the
woman's account. Empty casks and hampers were piled and
stowed away in all directions, while regiments of champagne and
other bottles stood and lay about among blacking bottles, Seltzer-
water bottles, boot-trees, bath-bricks, old brushes, and stumpt-up
besoms. Several pair of dirty top-boots, most of them with the
spurs on, were chucked into the shoe-house just as they had been
taken off. The kitchen, into which our friend now entered, was
in the same disorderly state. Numerous copper pans stood sim-
mering on the charcoal stoves, and the jointless jack still revolved
on the spit. A dirty slip-shod girl sat sleeping, with her apron
thrown over her head, which rested on the end of a table. The
open door of the servants' hall hard by, disclosed a pile of dress
and other clothes, which, after mopping up the ale and other slops,
would be carefully folded and taken back to the rooms of their
respective owners.
" Halloo ! " cried Mr. Sponge, shaking the sleeping girl by the
shoulder, which caused her to start up, stare, and rub her eyes in
wild affright. " Halloo ! " repeated he, " what's happened you ? "
" Oh, beg pardon, sir ! " exclaimed she ; " beg pardon," con-
tinued she, clasping her hands ; " I'll never do so again, sir ; no,
sir, I'll never do so again, indeed I worCV
She had just stolen a shape of blanc-mange, and thought she
was caught.
MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 375
" Then show me where I'll find pen and ink and paper," replied
our friend.
" Oh, sir, I don't know nothin' about them," replied the girl ;
"indeed, sir, / don't;" thinking it was some other petty larceny
he was inquiring about.
" Well, but you can tell me where to find a sheet of paper,
surely ? " rejoined he.
" Oh, indeed, sir, I can't" replied she ; " I know nothin' about
nothin' of the sort." Servants never do.
" What sort ? " asked Mr. Sponge, wondering at her
vehemence.
" Well, sir, about what you said," sobbed the girl, applying the
corner of her dirty apron to her eyes.
"Hang it, the girl's mad," rejoined our friend, brushing by, and
making for the passage beyond. This brought him past the still
room, the steward's room, the housekeeper's room, and the butler's
pantry. All were in most glorious confusion ; in the latter, Cap-
tain Cutitfat's lacquer-toed, lavender-coloured dress-boots were
reposing in the silver soup tureen, and Captain Bouncey's varnished
pumps were stuffed into a wine-cooler. The last detachment of
empty bottles stood or lay about the floor, commingling with
boot-jacks, knife-trays, bath-bricks, coat-brushes, candle-end boxes,
plates, lanterns, lamp-glasses, oil bottles, corkscrews, wine-strainers
— the usual miscellaneous appendages of a butler's pantry. All was
still and quiet ; not a sound, save the loud ticking of a timepiece,
or the occasional creek of a jarring door, disturbed the solemn silence
of the house. A nimble-handed mugger or tramp might have
carried off whatever he liked.
Passing onward, Mr. Sponge came to a red-baized, brass-nailed
door, which, opening freely on a patent spring, revealed the fine
proportions of a light picture-gallery with which the bright
mahogany doors of the entertaining rooms communicated. Opening
the first door he came to, our friend found himself in the elegant
drawing-room, on whose round bird's-eye-maple table, in the
centre, were huddled all the unequalled-lengthed candles of the
previous night's illumination. It was a handsome apartment,
fitted up in the most costly style ; with rose-colour brocaded satin
damask, the curtains trimmed with silk tassel fringe, and
ornamented with massive bullion tassels on cornices, Cupids
supporting wreaths under an arch, with open carved-work and
enrichments in burnished gold. The room, save the muster of the
candles, was just as it had been left ; and the richly gilt sofa still
retained the indentations of the sitters, with the luxurious down
pillows, left as they had been supporting their backs.
The room reeked of tobacco, and the ends and ashes of cigars
dotted the tables and white marble chimney-piece, and the gilt
37C MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
Blabs and the finely-flowered Tournay carpet, just as the fires of
gipsies dot and disfigure the fair face of a country. Costly china
and nick-nacks of all sorts were scattered about in profusion.
Altogether, it was a beautiful room.
" No want of money here," said Mr. Sponge to himself, as he
eyed it, and thought what havoc Gustavus James would make
among the ornaments if he had a chance.
He then looked about for pen, ink, and paper. These were
distributed so wide apart as to show the little request they were in.
Having at length succeeded in getting what he wanted gathered
together, Mr. Sponge sat down on the luxurious sofa, considering
how he should address his host, as he hoped. Mr. Sponge was not
a shy man, but, considering the circumstances under which he
made Sir Harry Scattercash's acquaintance, together with his
design upon his hospitality — above all, considering the crew by
whom Sir Harry was surrounded — it required some little tact to
pave the way without raising the present inmates of the house
against him. There are no people so anxious to protect others from
robbery as those who are robbing them themselves. Mr. Sponge
thought, and thought, and thought. At last he resolved to write
on the subject of the hounds. After sundry attempts on pink,
blue, and green-tinted paper, he at last succeeded in hitting off
the following, on yellow : —
" Nonsuch House.
"Dear Sir Harry, — I rode over this morning, hearing you
were to hunt, and am sorry to find you indisposed. I wish you
would drop me a line to Mr. Croivdeifs, Puddingpote Bower, saying
when next you go out, as I should much like to have another look at
your splendid pack, he/ore I leave this country, which I fear will
have to he soon.
" Yours in haste,
"H. Sponge.
"P.S. — 7" hope you all got safe home the other night from Mr.
Peastraw's."
Having put this into a richly-gilt and embossed envelope, our
friend directed it conspicuously to Sir Harry Scattercash, Bart.,
and stuck it in the centre of the mantle-piece. He then retraced
his steps through the back regions, informing the sleeping beauty
he had before disturbed, and who was now busy scouring a pan,
that he had left a letter in the drawing-room for Sir Harry, and if
she would see that he got it, he (Mr. Sponge) would remember her
the next time he came, which he inwardly hoped would be soon.
He then made for the stable, and got his horse, to go home,
sauntering more leisurely along than one would expect of a man
who had not got his breakfast, especially one riding a hack hunter.
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
377
The truth was, Mr. Sponge did not much like the aspect of
affairs. Sir Harry's was evidently a desperately " fast " house ;
added to which, the guests by whom he was surrounded were
clearly of the wide-awake order, who could not spare any pickings
for a stranger. Indeed, Mr. Sponge felt that they rather cold-
shouldered him at Farmer Peastraw's, and were in a greater hurry
to be off when the drag came, than the mere difference between
inside and outside seats required. He much questioned whether
he got into Sir Harry's at all. If it came to a vote, he thought
he should not. Then, what was he to do ? Old Jog was clearly
tired of him ; and he had nowhere else to go to. The thought
made him stick spurs into the chestnut, and hurry home to
Puddingpote Bower, where he endeavoured to soothe his host by
more than insinuating that he was going on a visit to Nonsuch
House. Jog inwardly prayed that he might.
CHAPTER LIL
THE DEBATE.
IT was just as Mr. Sponge predicted
with regard to his admission to Non-
such House. The first person who
spied his note to Sir Harry Scattercash,
was Captain Seedeybuck, who, going
into the drawing-room, the day after
Mr. Sponge's visit, to look for the top
of his cigar-case, saw it occupying the
centre of the mantel-piece. Having
mastered its contents, the Captain
5 C refolded and placed it where he found
it, with the simple observation to
himself of — " that cock won't fight."
Captain Quod saw it next, then
Captain Bouncey, who told Captain
Cutitfat what was in it, who agreed
with Bouncey that it wouldn't do to
have Mr. Sponge there.
Indeed, it seemed agreed on all
hands that their party rather wanted
weeding than increasing.
Thus, in due time, everybody in the
house knew the contents of the note save Sir Harry, though none
of them thought it worth while telling him of it. On the third
SIR HARRY OF NciN.sii II llcirsi'.
378 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUB.
morning, however, as the party were assembling for breakfast, be
came into tbe room reading it.
" This (hiccup) note ought to have been delivered before,"
observed he, holding it up.
" Indeed, my dear," replied Lady Scattercash, who was sitting
gloriously fine and very beautiful at the head of the table, " I don't
know anything about it."
" Who is it from," asked brother Bob Spangles.
" Mr. (hiccup) Sponge," replied Sir Harry.
" What a name ! " exclaimed Captain Seedcybuck.
" Who is he ? " asked Captain Quod.
"Don't know," replied Sir Harry ; "he writes to (hiccup) about
the hounds."
" Oh, it'll be that brown-booted buffer," observed Captain
Bouncey, " that we left at old Peastraw's."
" No doubt," assented Captain Cutitfat ; adding, "what business
has he with the hounds ? "
" He wants to know when we arc going to (hiccup) again,"
observed Sir Harry.
" Does he ? " replied Captain Sceclcybuck. " That, I suppose,
will depend upon Watchorn."
The party now got settled to breakfast, and as soon as the first
burst of appetite was appeased, the conversation again turned upon
our friend Mr. Sponge.
" Who is this Mr. Sponge ?" asked Captain Bouncey, the billiard-
marker, with the air of a thorough exclusive.
Nobody answered.
" Who's your friend ? " asked he of Sir Harry direct.
" Don't know," replied Sir Harry, from between the mouthfuls
of a highly cayenned grill.
"P'raps a bolting betting-office keeper," suggested Captain
LadofwTax, wrho hated Captain Bouncey.
" He looks more like a glazier, I think," retorted Captain
Bouncey, with a look of defiance at the speaker.
"Lucky if he is one," retorted Captain Ladofwax, reddening up to
the eyes ; " he may have a chance of repairing somebody's daylights."
The captain raising his saucer, to discharge it at his opponent's head.
" Gently with the cheney ! " exclaimed Lady Scattercash, who
was too much used to such scenes to care about the belligerents.
Bob Spangles caught Ladofwax's arm at the nick of time, and
saved the saucer.
" Hout ! you (hiccup) fellows are always (hiccup)ing," exclaimed
Sir Harry. " I declare Til have you both (hiccup)ed over to keep
the peace."
They then broke out into wordy recrimination and abuse, each
declaring that he wouldn't stay a day longer in the house if the
MB. SPONGE'S SPOBTING TOUB. 379
other remained ; but as they had often said so before, and still gave
no symptoms of going, their assertion produced little effect upon
anybody. Sir Harry would not have cared if all his guests had
gone together. Peace and order being at length restored, the
conversation again turned upon Mr. Sponge.
"I suppose we must have another (hiccup) hunt soon," observed
Sir Harry.
" In course," replied Bob Spangles ; " it's no use keeping the
hungry brutes unless you work them."
"You'll have a bagman, I presume," observed Captain Seedey-
buck, who did not like the trouble of travelling about the country
to draw for a fox.
" Oh, yes," replied Sir Harry ; " Watchorn will manage all that.
He's always (hiccup) in that line. We'd better have a hunt soon,
and then Mr. (hiccup) Bugles, you can see it." Sir Harry address-
ing himself to a gentleman he was as anxious to get rid of as
Mr. Jogglebury Crowdey was to get rid of Mr. Sponge.
" No ; Mr. Bugles won't go out any more," replied Lady
Scattercash, peremptorily. " He was nearly killed last time ; " her
ladyship casting an angry glance at her husband, and a very loving
one on the object of her solicitude.
" Oh, nought's never in danger ! " observed Bob Spangles.
" Then you can go, Bob," snapped his sister.
u I intend," replied Bob.
"Then (hiccup), gentlemen, I think I'll just write this Mr.
(hiccup) What's-his-name to (hiccup) over here," observed Sir
Harry, " and then he'll be ready for the (hiccup) hunt whenever
we choose to (hiccup) one."
The proposition fell still-born among the party.
" Don't you think we can do without him," at last suggested
Captain Seedeybuck.
"/think so," observed the elder Spangles, without looking up
from his plate.
" Who is it ? " asked Lady Scattercash.
" The man that was here the other morning — the man in the
queer chestnut-coloured boots," replied Mr. Orlando Bugles.
" Oh, I think he's rather good-looking ; I vote we have him,"
replied her ladyship.
That was rather a damper for Sir Harry ; but upon reflection,
he thought he could not be worse off with Mr. Sponge and Mr.
Bugles than he was with Mr. Bugles alone ; so, having finished a
poor appetiteless breakfast, he repaired to what he called his
"study," and with a feeble, shaky hand, scrawled an invitation to
Mr. Sponge to come over to Nonsuch House, and take his chance
of a run with his hounds. He then sealed and posted the letter
without further to-do.
380 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
Four days had new elapsed since Mr. Sponge penned his overture
to Sir Harry, and each succeeding day satisfied him more of the
utter impossibility of holding on much longer in his then billet at
Puddingpote Bower. Not only was Jog coarse and incessant in his
hints to him to be off, but Jawleyford-likc he had lowered the
standard of entertainment so greatly, that if it hadn't been that
Mr. Sponge had his servant and horses kept also, he might as well
have been living at his own expense. The company lights were all
extinguished ; great, strong-smelling, cauliflower-headed moulds,
that were always wanting snuffing, usurped the place of Belmont
wax ; napkins were withdrawn ; second-hand table-cloths intro-
duced ; marsala did duty for sherry ; and the stick-jaw pudding
assumed a consistency that was almost incompatible with articula-
tion.
In the course of this time Sponge wrote to Puffington, saying if
he was better he would return and finish his visit ; but the
wary Puff sent a messenger off express with a note, lamenting that
he was ordered to Handley Cross for his health, but " pop'lar man "
like, hoping that the pleasure of Sponge's company was only
deferred for another season. Jawleyford, even Sponge thought
hopeless ; and, altogether, he was very much perplexed. He had
made a little money, certainly, with his horses ; but a permanent
investment of his elegant person, such as he had long been on the
look out for, seemed as far off as ever. On the afternoon of the
fifth day, as he was taking a solitary stroll about the country,
having about made up his mind to be off to town, just as he was
crossing Jog's buttercup meadow on his way to the stable, a rapid
hang ! tang ! caused him to start, and, looking over the hedge, he
saw a brawny-looking sportsman in brown reloading his gun, with
a brace of liver and white setters crouching like statues in the
stubble.
" Seek dead ! " presently said the shooter, with a slight wave of
his hand ; and in an instant each dog was picking up his bird.
" I'll have a word with you," said Sponge, " on and off-ing " the
hedge, his beat causing the shooter to start and look as if inclined
for a run ; second thoughts said Sponge was too near, and he'd
better brave it.
" What sport ? " asked Sponge, striding towards him.
" Oh, pretty middling," replied the shooter, a great red-headed,
freckley-faced fellow, with backward-lying whiskers, crowned in a
drab rustic. " Oh, pretty middling," repeated he, not knowing
whether to act on the friendly or defensive.
" Fine day ! " said Sponge, eyeing his fox-rnaskey whiskers and
stout, muscular frame.
" It is," replied the shooter ; adding, "Just followed my birds
over the boundary. No 'fence, I s'pose — no 'fence."
MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 3S1
" Oh, no," said Mr. Sponge. " Jog, I des-say, '11 be very glad to
see you."
" Oh, you'll be Mr. Sponge ? " observed the stranger, jumping
to a conclusion.
" I am," replied our hero ; adding, " May I ask who I have the
honour of addres-ing."
"My name's Romford — Charley Romford ; everybody knows me.
Very glad to make your 'quaintance," tendering Sponge a great,
rough, heavy hand. " I was goin' to call upon you," observed the
stranger, as he ceased swinging Sponge's arm to and fro like a
pump-handle ; " I was goin' to call upon you, to see if you'd come
over to Waskingforde, and have some shootin' at me Oncle's —
oncle Gilroy's, at Queercove Hill."
"Most happy!'" exclaimed Sponge, thinking it was the very
thing he wanted.
" Get a day with the harriers, too, if you like," continued the
shooter, increasing the temptation.
" Better still ! " thought Sponge.
" I've only bachelor 'commodation to offer you ; but p'raps you'll
not mind roughing it a bit ? " observed Romford.
" Oh, faith, not I ! " replied Sponge, thinking of the luxuries of
Puffington's bachelor habitation. " What sort of stables have you ? "
asked our friend.
" Capital stables — excellent stables ! " replied the shooter ;
"stalls six feet in the clear, by twelve dip (deep), iron racks, oak
stall-posts covered with zinc, beautiful oats, capital beans,
splendacious hay — won without a shower ! "
" Bravo ! " exclaimed Sponge, thinking he had lit on his legs,
and might snap his fingers at Jog and his hints. He'd take the
high hand, and give Jog up.
" Tm your man / " said Sponge, in high glee.
" When will you come ? " asked Romford.
" To-morrow / " replied Sponge, firmly.
" So be it," rejoined his preferred host ; and, with another hearty
swing of the arm, the newly made friends parted.
Charley Romford, or Facey, as he was commonly called, from his
being the admitted most impudent man in the country, was a great,
round-faced, coarse-featured, prize-fighting sort of fellow, who lived
chiefly by his wits, which he exercised in all the legitimate lines of
industry — poaching, betting, boxing, horse-dealing, cards, quoits —
anything that came uppermost. That he was a man of enterprise,
we need hardly add, when he had formed a scheme for doing our
Sponge, — a man that Ave do not think any of our readers would
trouble themselves to try a "plant" upon.
This impudent Facey, as if in contradiction of terms, was
originally intended for a civil engineer ; but having early in life
382 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
voted himself heir to his uncle, Mr. Gilroy, of Qucercove Hill, a
great cattle-jobber, with a " small independence of his own " — ■
three hundred a year, perhaps, which a kind world called six —
Facey thought he would just hang about until his uncle was done
with his shoes, and then be lord of Queercove Hill.
Now, "me Oncle Gilroy," of whom Facey was constantly talking,
had a left-handed wife and a promising family in the sylvan retire-
ment of St. John's Wood, whither he used to retire after his
business in " Smi'fiel' " was over ; so that Facey, for once, was out
in his calculations. Gilroy, however, being as knowing as " his
nevvey," as he called him, just encouraged Facey in his shooting,
fishing, and idle propensities generaUy, doubtless finding it more
convenient to have his fish and game for nothing than to pay for
them.
Facey, having the apparently inexhaustible sum of a thousand
pounds, began life as a fox-hunter — in a very small way, to be
sure — more for the purpose of selling horses than anything else ;
but, having succeeded in "doing" all the do-able gentlemen, both
with the " Tip and Go " and Cranerficld hounds, his occupation
was gone, it requiring an extended field — such as our friend Sponge
roamed — to carry on cheating in horses for any length of time.
Facey was soon blown, his name in connection with a horse being
enough to prevent any one looking at him. Indeed, we question
that there is any less desirable mode of making, or trying to make
money, than by cheating or even dealing in horses. Many people
fancy themselves cheated, whatever they get ; while the man who
is really cheated never forgets it, and proclaims it to the end of
time. Moreover, no one can go on cheating in horses for any length
of time, without putting himself in the power of his groom ; and
let those who have seen how servants lord it over each other say
how they would like to subject themselves to similar treatment. —
But to our story.
Facey Romford had now a splendid milk-white horse, well-known
in Mr. Nobbington's and Lord Leader's hunts as Mr. Hobler, but
who Facey kindly rechristened the " Nonpareil," which the now
rising price of oats, and falling state of his finances, made him
particularly anxious to get rid of, ere the horse performed the
equestrian feat of " eating its head off." He was a very hunter-
like looking horse, but his misfortune consisted in having such
shocking seedy toes that he couldn't keep his shoes on. If he got
through the first field with them on, they were sure to be off at the
fence. This horse Facey voted to be the very thing for Mr. Sponge,
and hearing that he had come into the country to hunt, it occurred
to him that it would be a capital thing if he could get him to take
Mother Overend's spare bed and lodge with him, twelve shillings
a-week being more than Facey liked paying for his rooms. Not
MB. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR. 383
that he paid twelve shillings for the rooms alone ; on the contrary,
he had a two-stalled stable, with a sort of kennel for his pointers,
and a sty for his pig into the bargain. This pig, which was eaten
many times in anticipation, had at length fallen a victim to the
butcher, and Facey's larder was uncommonly well found in black-
puddings, sausages, spareribs, and other the component parts of a
pig : so that he was in very hospitable circumstances, — at least, in
his rough and ready idea of what hospitality ought to be. Indeed,
whether he had or not, he'd have risked it, being quite as good at
carrying things off with a high hand as Mr. Sponge himself.
The invitation came most opportunely ; for, worn out with
jealousy and watching, Jog had made up his mind to cut to
Australia, and when Sponge returned after meeting Facey, Jog was
in the act of combing out an advertisement, offering all that
desirable sporting residence called Puddingpote Bower, with the
coach-house, stables, and offices thereunto belonging, to let, and
announcing that the whole of the valuable household furniture,
comprising mahogany, dining, loo, card, and Pembroke tables ;
sofa, couch, and chairs in hair seating ; cheffonier, with plate
glass ; book-case ; flower-stands ; piano-forte, by Collard and
Collard ; music-stool and Canterbury ; chimney and pier-glasses ;
mirror ; ormolu time-piece ; alabaster and wax ligures and shades ;
China ; Brussels carpets and rugs ; fenders and fireirons ; curtains
and cornices ; Venetian blinds ; mahogany four-post, French,
and camp bedsteads ; feather beds ; hair mattresses ; mahogany
chests of drawers ; dressing-glasses ; wash and dressing-tables;
patent shower-bath ; bed and table-linen ; dinner and tea-ware ;
warming-pans, &c, would be exposed to immediate and unreserved
sale.
How gratefully Sponge's inquiry if he knew Mr. Romford fell on
his ear, as they sat moodily together after dinner over some very
low-priced Port.
" Oh, yes (puff) — oh, yes (wheeze) — oh, yes (gasp) ! Know
Charley Romford — Facey, as they call him. He's (puff, wheeze,
gasp), heir to old Mr. Gilroy, of Queercove Hill."
" Just so," rejoined Sponge, — " just so ; that's the man, — stout,
square-built fellow, with backward-growing whiskers. I'm going
to stay with him to shoot at old Gils. Where does Charley live ? "
" Live ! " exclaimed Jog, almost choked with delight at the
information ; " live ! live ! " repeated he, for the third time ;
"lives at (puff, wheeze, gasp, cough), AYashingforde — yes, at
Washingforde ; 'bout ten miles from (puff, wheeze) here. When
tVye go ? "
" To-morrow," replied Sponge, with an air of offended dignity.
Jog was so rejoiced that he could hardly sit on his chair.
Mrs. Jog, when she heard it, felt that Gustavus James's chance
384 MR. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR.
of independence was gone ; for well she knew that Jog would never
let Sponge come back to the Bower.
We need scarcely say that Jog was up betimes in the morning,
most anxious to forward Mr. Sponge's departure. He offered to
allow Bartholomew to convey him and his " traps " in the phaeton
— an offer that Mr. Sponge availed himself of as far as his " traps "
were concerned, though he preferred cantering over on his piebald
to trailing along in Jog's jingling chay. So matters were arranged,
and Mr. Sponge forthwith proceeded to put his brown boots, his
substantial cords, his superfine tights, his cuttey scarlet, his dress
blue saxony, his clean linen, his heavy spurs, and though last, not
least in importance, his now backless " Mogg," into his solid
leather portmanteau, sweeping the surplus of his wardrobe into a
capacious carpet-bag. While the guest was thus busy up-stairs,
the host wandered about restlessly, now stirring up this person,
now hurrying that, in the full enjoyment of the much-coveted
departure. His pleasure was, perhaps, rather damped by a running
commentary he overheard through the lattice-window of the stable,
from Leather, as he stripped his horses and tried to roll up their
clothing in a moderate compass.
" (3rd rot your great carcass ! " exclaimed he, giving the roll a
hearty kick in its bulging-out stomach, on finding that he had not
got it as small as he wanted. " Ord rot your great carcass,"
repeated he, scratching his head and eyeing it as it lay ; " this is
all the consequence of your nasty brewers' hapron weshins, —
blowin' of one out, like a bladder ! " and, thereupon, he placed his
hand on his stomach to feel how his own was. " Never see'd sich
a house, or sich an aivful mean man ! " continued he, stooping and
pommelling the package with his fists. It was of no use, he could
not get it as small as he wished — " Must have my jacket out on
you, I do believe," added he, seeing where the impediment was ;
" sticks in your gizzard just like a lump of old Puff-and-blow's
puddin' ;" and then he thrust his hand into the folds of the
clothing, and pulled out the greasy garment. " Now," said he,
stooping again, " I think we may manish ye ; " and he took the
roll in his arms and hoisted it on to Hercules, whom he meant to
make the led horse, observing aloud, as he adjusted it on the saddle,
and whacked it well with his hands to make it lie right, " I wish
it was old Jog — wouldn't I sarve him out! " He then turned his
horses round in their stalls, tucked his greasy jacket under the flap
of the saddle-bags, took his ash-stick from the crook, and led them
out of the capacious door. Jog looked at him with mingled feel-
ings of disgust and delight. Leather just gave his old hat flipe a
rap with his forefinger as he passed with the horses — a salute that
Jog did not condescend to return.
Having eyed the receding horses with great satisfaction, Jog
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 3S5
re-entered the bouse by the kitchens, to have the pleasure of seeing
Mr. Sponge oil'. He found the portmanteau and carpet-bag
standing in the passage ; and just at the moment the sound of the
phaeton wheels fell on his car, as Bartholomew drove round from
the coach-house to the door. Mr. Sponge was already in the
parlour, making his adieus to Mrs. Jog and the children, who
were all assembled for the purpose.
" What, are you goin' ? " (puff) asked Jog, with an air of
surprise.
" Yes," replied Mr. Sponge ; adding, as he tendered his hand,
" the best friends must part, you know."
"Well (puff), but you'd better have your (wheeze) horse
round," observed Jog, anxious to avoid any overture for a
return.
" Thankee," replied Mr. Sponge, making a parting bow ; " I'll get
him at the stable."
" I'll go with you," said Jog, leading the way.
Leather had saddled, and bridled, and turned him round in the
stall, with one of Mr. Jog's blanket-rugs on, which Mr. Sponge
just swept over his tail into the manger, and led the horse out.
" Adieu ! " said he, offering his hand to his host.
" Good-bye ! — good, (puff) sport to you," said Jog, shaking it
heartily.
Mr. Sponge then mounted his hack, and cocking out his toe,
rode off at a canter.
At the same moment, Bartholomew drove away from the front
door ; and Jog, having stood watching the phaeton over the rise
of Pennypound Hill, scraped his feet, re-entered his house, and
rubbing them heartily on the mat as he closed the sash-door, observed
aloud to himself, with a jerk of his head —
" Well, now, that's the most (puff ) impittent feller I ever saw
in my life ! Catch me (gasp) godpapa-hunting again."
" The fatal invitation to Mr. Sponge having been sent, the question
that now occupied the minds of the assembled sharpers at Nonsuch
House, was, whether he was a pigeon or one of themselves. That
point occupied their very deep and serious consideration. If he was
a " pigeon," they could clearly accommodate him, but if, on the
other hand, he was one of themselves, it was painfully apparent
that there were far too many of them there already. Of course,
the subject was not discussed in full and open conclave — they
were all highly honourable men in the gross — and it was only in
the small and secret groups of those accustomed to hunt together
and unburden their minds, that the real truth was elicited.
"What an ass Sir Harry is, to ask this Mr. Sponge," observed
Captain Quod to Captain Seedeybuck, as (cigar in mouth) they
paced backwards and forwards under the flagged verandah on the
o o
286 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
west side of the house, on the morning that Sir Harry had
announced his intention of asking him.
" Confounded ass," assented Seedeybuck, from between the whiffs
of his cigar.
" Dash it ! one would think he had more money than he knew
what to do with," observed the first speaker, "instead of not
knowing where to lay hands on a halfpenny."
" Soon be who-lwop" here observed Quod, with a shake of the
head.
" Fear so," replied Seedeybuck. " Have you heard anything
fresh ? "
"Nothing particular. The County Court bailiff was herewith
some summonses, which, of course, he put in the fire."
" Ah ! that's what he always does. He got tired of papering
the smoking-room with them," replied Seedeybuck.
" Well, it's a pity," observed Quod, spitting as he spoke ; " but
what can you expect, eaten up as he is by such a set of rubbish."
" Shockin'," replied Seedeybuck, thinking how long he and his
friend might have fattened there together.
"Do you know anything of this Mr. Sponge ?" asked Captain
Quod, after a pause.
" Nothin'," replied Seedeybuck, " except what we saw of him
here ; but I'm sure he won't do."
" Well, I think not either," replied Quod ; " I didn't like his
looks — he seems quite one of the free-and-easy sort."
" Quite," observed Seedeybuck, determined to make a set against
him, instead of cultivating his acquaintance.
" This Mr. Sponge won't be any great addition to our party, I
think," muttered Captain Bouncey to Captain Cutitfat, as they
stood within the bay of the library window, in apparent contem-
plation of the cows, but in reality conning the Sponge matter
over in their minds.
" I think not," replied Captain Cutitfat, with an emphasis.
" Wonder what made Sir Harry ask him ! " whispered Bouncey,
adding, aloud, for the bystanders to hear. " That's a fine cow,
isn't it ? "
"Very," replied Cutitfat, in the same key, adding, in a whisper,
with a shrug of his shoulders ; " wonder what made him ask half
the people that are here ! "
" The black and white one isn't a bad un," observed Bouncey,
nodding his head towards the cows, adding in an undertone ;
"most of them asked themselves, I should think."
" Admiring the cows, Captain Bouncey ? " asked the beautiful
and tolerably virtuous Miss Glitters, of the Astley's Royal Amphi-
theatre, who had come down to spend a few days with her old
friend, Lady Scattercash. " Admiring the cows, Captain
ME. SPONGE'S SPOETING- TOUE. 387
Bouncey ? " asked she, sidling her elegant figure between our
friends in the bay.
" "We were just saying how nice it would be to have two or
three pretty girls, and a sillabub, under those cedars," replied
Captain Bouncey.
" Oh, charming ! " exclaimed Miss Glitters, her dark eyes
sparkling as she spoke. " Harriet ! " exclaimed she, addressing
herself to a young lady, who called herself Howard, but whose
real name was Brown — Jane Brown. — " Harriet ! " exclaimed
she, " Captain Bouncey is going to give a fete champetre under
those lovely cedars."
" Oh, how nice ! " exclaimed Harriet, clapping her hands in
ecstasies — theatrical ecstasies at least.
" It must be Sir Harry," replied the billiard-table man, not
fancying being " let in " for anything.
" Oh ! Sir Harry will let us have anything we like, I'm sure,"
rejoined Miss Glitters.
" "What is it (hiccup) ? " asked Sir Harry, who, hearing his
name, now joined the party.
" Oh, we want you to give us a dance under those charming
cedars," replied the lady, looking lovingly at him.
"Cedars!" hiccuped Sir Harry, "where do you see any cedars?"
" "Why there," replied Miss Glitters, nodding towards a clump
of evergreens.
" Those are (hiccup) hollies," replied Sir Harry.
" Well, under the hollies," rejoined Miss Glitters ; adding, " it
was Captain Bouncey who said they were cedars."
" Ah, I meant those beyond," observed the captain, nodding in
another direction.
" Those are (hiccup) Scotch firs," rejoined Sir Harry.
" "Well, never mind what they are," resumed the lady ; " let us
have a dance under them."
" Certainly," replied Sir Harry, who was always ready for any-
thing.
" We shall have plenty of partners," observed Miss Howard,
recollecting how many men there were in the house.
" And another coming," observed Captain Cutitfat, still fretting
at the idea.
" Indeed ! " exclaimed Miss Howard, raising her hands and eye-
brows in delight ; "and who is he ?" asked she, with unfeigned glee.
" Oh such a (hiccup) swell," replied Sir Harry ; " reg'lar
Leicestershire man. A (hiccup) Quornite in fact."
" AVe'll not have the dance till he comes, then," observed Miss
Glitters.
" No more we will," said Miss Howard, withdrawing from the
group.
c c 2
388
ME. SPONGE'S SEOETING TOUE.
MR. FACEY ROMFORD.
CHAPTER LIIT.
FACEY ROMFORD AT HOME.
WE will now suppose our distin-
guished Sponge entering the village,
or what the natives call the town of
Washingforde, towards the close of
a short December day, on his
arrival from Mr. Jog's.
"What sort of stables are there ? "
asked he, reining up his hack, as
he encountered the brandy-nosed
Leather airing himself on the main
street.
" Stables be good enough — for-
age, too," replied the stud groom, —
"per-wi(Le& you likes thesittivation."
" Oh, the sittivation '11 be good enough," retorted Sponge, think-
ing that, groom-like, Leather was grumbling because he hadn't
got the best stables.
"Well, sir, as you please," replied the man.
" Why, where are they ? " asked Sponge, seeing there was more
in Leathers manner than met the eye.
" Rose and Crown /" replied Leather, with an emphasis.
" Rose and Croion I " exclaimed Sponge, starting in his saddle ;.
" Kose and Crown ! Why I'm going to stay with Mr. Romford ! "
" So he said," replied Leather ; " so he said. I met him as I
com'd in with the osses, and said he to me, said he, ' You'll find,
captle quarters at the Crown ! ' "
" The deuce ! " exclaimed Mr. Sponge, dropping the reins on his
hack's neck ; " the deuce ! " repeated he with a look of disgust.
" Why, where does he live ? "
" 'Bove the saddler's, thonder," replied Leather, nodding to a
small bow-windowed white house a little lower down, with the gilt-
lettered words : —
OVEREND,
SADDLER AND HARNESS-MAKER TO THE QUEEN,
above a very meagrely stocked shop.
" The devil!" replied Mr. Sponge, boiling up, as he eyed the
cottage-like dimensions of the place.
The dialogue was interrupted by a sledge-hammer-like blow on
MB. SPONGE'S SPOBTING TOUB. 389
Sponge's back, followed by such a proffered hand as could proceed
from none but his host.
" Glad to see ye ! " exclaimed Facey, swinging Sponge's arm to
and fro. " Get off ! " continued he, half dragging him down,
" and let's go in ; for it's beastly cold, and dinner '11 be ready in no
time ! "
So saying, he led the captive Sponge down street, like a
prisoner, by the arm, and, opening the thin house-door,
pushed him up a very straight staircase into a little low cabin-like
room, hung with boxing-gloves, foils, and pictures of fighters and
ballet girls.
" Glad to see ye ! " again said Facey, poking the diminutive
fire. " 'Axed Nosey Nickel and Gutty Weazel to meet you,"
continued he, looking at the little " dinner-for-two " table ; " but
Nosey's gone wrong in a tooth, and Gutty's away sweetheartin'.
However, we'll be very cozey and jolly together ; and if you want
to wash your hands, or anything afore dinner, I'll show you your
bed-room," continued he, backing Sponge across the staircase
landing to where a couple of little black doors opened into rooms,
formed by dividing what had been the duplicate of the sitting-
room into two.
" There ! " exclaimed Facey, pointing to Sponge's portmanteau
and bag, standing midway between the window and door : —
" There ! there are your traps. Yonder's the washhand-stand.
You can put your shavin'-things on the chair below the lookin'-
glass 'gainst the wall," pointing to a fragment of glass nailed
against the stencilled wall, all of which Sponge stood eyeing with
a mingled air of resignation and contempt ; but when Facey
pointed to —
" The chest, contrived a double debt to pay —
A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day ;"
and said that was where Sponge would have to curl himself up,
our friend shook his head, and declared he could not.
" Oh, fiddle ! " replied Facey, " Jack Weatherley slept in it for
months, and he's half a hand higher than you — sixteen hands, if
he's an inch." And Sponge jerked his head and bit his lips,
thinking he was " done " for once.
" W-h-o-y, ar thought you'd been a fox-hunter," observed Facey,
6eeing his guest's disconcerted look.
" Well, but bein' a fox-hunter won't enable one to sleep in a
band-box, or to shut one's-self up like a telescope," retorted the
indignant Sponge.
" Ord hang it, man ! you're so nasty partickler," rejoined
Facey ; " you're so nasty partickler. You'll never do to go out
duck-shootin' i' your shirt. Dash it, man ! Onele Gilroy would
390 MB. SPONGE'S SPOBTING TOUB.
disinherit mo if ar was such a chap. However, look sharp," con-
tinued he, " if you are goin' to clean yourself ; for dinner'll be
ready in no time, indeed, I hear Mrs. End dishin' it up." So
saying, Facey rolled out of the room, and Sponge presently heard
him pulling off his clogs of shoes in the adjoining one. Dinner
spoke for itself, for the house reeked with the smell of fried onions
and roast pork.
Now, Sponge didn't like pork ; and there was nothing but pork,
or pig in one shape or another. Spare ribs, liver and bacon,
sausages, black puddings, &c, — all very good in their way, but
which came with a bad grace after the comforts of Jog's, the
elegance of Puffington's, and the early splendour of Jawleyford's.
Our hero was a good deal put out, and felt as if he was imposed
upon. What business had a man like this to ask him to stay with
him — a man who dined by daylight, and ladled his meat with a
great two -pronged fork ?
Facey, though he saw Mr. Sponge wasn't pleased, praised and
pressed everything in succession down to a very strong cheese ;
and as the slip-shod girl whisked away crumbs and all in the
coarse table-cloth, he exclaimed in a most open-hearted air, " Well,
now, what shall we have to drink ? " adding, " You smoke, of
course — shall it be gin, rum, or Hollands — Hollands, rum, or gin ?"
Sponge was half inclined to propose wine, but recollecting what
sloe-juice sort of stuff it was sure to be, and that Facey, in all
probability, would make him finish it, he just replied, " Oh, I don't
care ; 'spose we say gin ? "
" Gin be it," said Facey rising from his seat, and making for a
little closet in the wall, he produced a bottle labelled "Fine
London Spirit ; " and, hallooing to the girl to get a few " Captins "
out of the bos under his bed, he scattered a lot of glasses about
the table, and placed a green dessert-dish for the biscuits against
they came.
Night had now closed in — a keen, boisterous, wintry night,
making the pocketful of coals that ornamented the grate peculiarly
acceptable.
" B-o-y Jove, what a night ! " exclaimed Facey, as a blash of
sleet dashed across the window as if some one had thrown a hand-
ful of pebbles against it. , " B-o-y Jove, what a night ! " repeated
he, rising and closing the shutters, and letting down the little scanty
red curtain. " Let us draw in and have a hot brew," continued
he, stirring the fire under the kettle, and handing a lot of cigars
out of the table-drawer. They then sat smoking and sipping, and
smoking and sipping, each making a mental estimate of the other.
" Shall we have a game at cards ? or what shall we do to pass
the evenin' ? " at length asked our host. " Better have a game
at cards, p'raps," continued he.
FACEY ROMFORD TREATS SPONGE TO A LITTLE MUSIC.
[P. 391.
MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 391
" Thank'ee, no ; thank'ee, no. I've a book in my pocket,"
replied Sponge, diving- into his jacket-pocket ; adding, as he fished
up his Mogg, " always carry a book of light reading about with
me."
" What, you're a literary cove, are you ? " asked Facey, in a
tone of surprise.
"Not exactly that," replied Sponge; "but I like to improve
my mind." He then opened the valuable work, taking a dip into
the Omnibus Guide — " Brentford, 7 from Hyde Park Corner —
European Coffee House, near the Bank, daily," and so worked his
way on through the " Brighton Railway Station, Brixton, Bromley
both in Kent and Middlesex, Bushey Heath, Camberwell, Camden
Town, and Carshalton," right into Cheam, when Facey, who had
been eyeing him intently, not at all relishing his style of proceeding
and wishing to be doing, suddenly exclaimed, as he darted up —
" B-o-y Jove ! You've not heard me play the flute ! JSTo more
you have. Dash it, how remiss ! " continued he, making for the
little book-shelf on which it lay ; adding, as he blew into it and
sucked the joints, " you're musical, of course ? "
" Oh, I can stand music," muttered Sponge, with a jerk of his
head, as if a tune was neither here nor there with him.
" By Jingo ! you should see me Oncle Gilroy when a'rm
playin' ! The old man act'ly sheds tears of delight — he's so
pleased."
" Indeed," replied Sponge, now passing on into Mogg's Cab Fares
— " Aldersgate Street, Hare Court, to or from Bagnigge-AYells,"
and so on, when Facey struck up the most squeaking, discordant,
broken-winded
" Jump Jim Crow,"
that ever was heard, making the sensitive Sponge shudder, and
setting all his teeth on edge.
" Hang me, but that flute of yours wants nitre, or a dose of
physic, or something most dreadful ! " at length exclaimed he,
squeezing up his face as if in the greatest agony, as the laboured —
"Jump about and wheel about"
completely threw Sponge over in his calculation as to what he
could ride from Aldgate Pump to the Pied Bull at Islington for.
" Oh, no ! " replied Facey, with an air of indifference, as he
took off the end and jerked out the steam. " Oh, no — only wants
work — only wants work," added he, putting it together again,
exclaiming, as he looked at the now sulky Sponge, "Well, what
shall it be ? "
" "Whatever you please," replied our friend, dipping frantically
into his Mogg.
392 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
"Well, then, I'll play you me oncle's favourite tunc, 'The Merry
Swiss Boy,' " whereupon Facey set to most vigorously "with that
once most popular air. It, however, came off as rustily as " Jim
Crow," for whose feats Facey evidently had a partiality ; for no
sooner did he get squeaked through " me oncle's " tune than he
returned to the nigger melody with redoubled zeal, and puffed and
blew Sponge's calculations as to what he could ride from " Mother
Redcap's at Camden Town down Liquorpond Street, up Snow
Hill, and so on, to the "Angel" in Ratcliffe Highway for, clean
out of his head. Nor did there seem any prospect of relief, for no
sooner did Facey get through one tune than he at the other
again.
" Rot it ! " at length exclaimed Sponge, throwing his " Mogg "
from him in despair, "you'll deafen me with that abominable
noise."
" Bless my heart ! " exclaimed Facey, in well-feigned surprise,
" Bless my heart ! Why, I thought you liked music, my dear
feller ! " adding, " I was playin' to please you."
"The deuce you were! " snapped Mr. Sponge, "I wish Fd
known sooner : I'd have saved you a deal of wind."
" Why, my dear feller," replied Facey, "I wished to entertain you
the best in my power. One must do somethin', you know."
" I'd rather do anything than undergo that horrid noise,"
replied Sponge, ringing his left ear with his fore-finger.
" Let's have a game at cards, then," rejoined Facey, soothingly,
seeing he had sufficiently agonised Sponge.
" Cards," replied Mr. Sponge. " Cards," repeated he, thought-
fully, stroking his hairy chin. " Cards," added he, for the third
time, as he conned Facey's rotund visage, and wondered if he was
a sharper. If the cards were fair, Sponge didn't care trying his
luck. It all depended upon that. " Well," said he, in a tone of
indifference, as he picked up his " Mogg," thinking he wouldn't
pay if he lost, " I'll give you a turn. What shall it be ? "
" Oh — w-h-o-y — s'pose we say ecarte ? " replied Facey, in an
off-hand sort of way.
" Well," drawled Sponge, pocketing his " Mogg," preparatory
to action.
" You haven't a clean pack, have you ? " asked Sponge, as
Facey, diving into a drawer, produced a very dirty, thumb-marked
set.
" W-h-o-y, no, I haven't," replied Facey. " W-h-o-y, no I
haven't : but, honour bright, these arc all right and fair. Wouldn't
cheat a man, if it was ever so."
" Sure you wouldn't," replied Sponge, nothing comforted by
the assertion.
They then resumed their seats opposite each other at the little
MB. SPONGE'S SPOBTING TOUB. 393
table, with the hot water and sugar, and " Fine London Spirit "
bottle, equitably placed between them.
At first Mr. Sponge was the victor, and by nine o'clock had
scored eight-and-twenty shillings against his host, when he was
inclined to leave off, alleging that he was an early man, and would
go to bed — an arrangement that Facey seemed to come into, only
pressing Sponge to accompany the gin he was now helping him-
self to with another cigar. This seemed all fair and reasonable ;
and as Sponge conned matters over, through the benign influence
of the " 'baccy," he really thought Facey mightn't be such a bad
beggar after all.
" Well, then," said he, as he finished cigar and glass together,
" if you'll give me eight-and-twenty bob, I'll be off to bedford-
shire."
" You'll give me my revenge surely ! " exclaimed Facey, in pre-
tended astonishment.
" To-morrow night," replied Sponge firmly, thinking it would have
to go hard with him if he remained there to give it.
" Nay, now ! " rejoined Facey, adding, " it's quite early. Me
Oncle Gilroy and I always play much later at Qucercove Hill."
Sponge hesitated. If he had got the money, he wrould have
refused point-blank ; as it was, he thought, perhaps the only
chance of getting it was to go on. With no small reluctance and
misgivings he mixed himself another tumbler of gin and water,
and, changing seats, resumed the game. Nor was our discreet
friend far wrong in his calculations, for luck now changed, and
Facey seemed to have the king quite at command. In less than
an hour he had not only wiped off the eight-and twenty shillings,
but had scored three pound fifteen against his guest. Facey would
now leave off. Sponge, on the other hand, wanted to go on.
Facey, however, was firm. " I'll cut you double or quits, then,"
cried Sponge, in rash despair. Facey accommodated him and
doubled the debt.
" Again ! " exclaimed Sponge, with desperate energy.
" No ! no more, thank ye," replied Facey, coolly. " Fair play's
a jewel."
" So it is," assented Mr. Sponge, thinking he hadn't had it.
" Now," continued Facey, poking into the table-drawer and pro-
ducing a dirty scrap of paper, with a little pocket ink-case, " if
you'll give me an ' I.O.U.,' we'll shut up shop."
" An ' I.O.U ! ' " retorted Sponge, looking virtuously indignant.
— " An ' I.O.U ! ' I'll give you your money i' the mornin'."
" I know you will," replied Facey, coolly, putting himself in
boxing attitude, exclaiming, as he measured out a distance, " just
feel the biceps muscle of my arm — do believe I could fell an
ox. However, never mind," continued he, seeing Sponge
394 ME. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR.
declined the feel. " Life's uncertain : so you give me an ' I. 0. U.'
and we'll be all right and square. Short reckonin's make long
friends, you know," added he, pointing peremptorily to the
paper.
" I'd better give you a cheque at once," retorted Sponge, looking
the very essence of chivalry.
"Money, if you please," replied Facey ; muttering, with a jerk
of Ins head, "don't Wee paper.'''1
The renowned Sponge, for once, was posed. He had the money,
but he didn't like to part with it. So he gave the
Ju 0. °IL
Seven bounds Sfciv Slbillings.
^'7 70 0. C/d
ob. sponge.
and, lighting a twelve-to-the-pound candle, sulked off to undress
and crawl into the little impossibility of a bed.
Night, however, brought no relief to our distinguished friend ;
for, little though the bed was, it was large enough to admit lodgers,
and poor Sponge was nearly worried by the half-famished vermin,
who seemed bent on making up for the long fast they had endured
since the sixteen-hands-man left. "Worst of all, as day dawned, the
eternal " Jim Crow" recommenced his saltations, varied only with
the
" Come, arouse ye, my merry Swiss boy "
of " me Oncle Gilroy."
"Well, dash my buttons ! " groaned Sponge, as the discordant
noise shot through his aching head, " but this is the worst spec
I ever made in my life. Fed on pork, fluted deaf, bit with bugs,
and robbed at cards — fairly, downrightly robbed. Never was a.
more reg'ler plant put on a man. Thank goodness, however, I
haven't paid him — never will, either. Such a confounded, dis-
reputable scoundrel deserves to be punished — big, bad, blackguard-
looking fellow ! How the deuce I could ever be taken in by such
a fellow ! Believe he's nothing but a great poaching blackleg.
Hasn't the faintest outlines of a gentleman about him — not the
slightest particle — not the remotest glimmcrin'."
These and similar reflections were interrupted by a great thump
MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING- TOUR. 395
against the thin lath-and-plaster "wall that separated their rooms,
or rather closets, accompanied by an exclamation of —
" Halloo, old boy ! how goes it ? " — an inquiry to which
our friend deigned no answer.
" Ord rot ye! you're awake," muttered Facey to himself, well
knowing that no one could sleep after such a " Jirn-Crow-ing"
and " Swiss-boy-ing " as he had given him. He, therefore,
resumed his battery, thumping as though he would knock the
partition in.
" Halloo ! " at last exclaimed Mr. Sponge, " who's there ? "
" Well, old Sivin-Pund-Ten, how goes it ? " asked Facey, in a
tone of the keenest irony.
" You be ! " growled Mr. Sponge, in disgust.
" Breakfast in half an hour ! " resumed Facey. " Pigs' -puddin's
and sarsingers — all 'ot — pipin' 'ot ! " continued our host.
"Wish you were pipin' 'ot," growled Mr. Sponge, as he jerked
himself out of his little berth.
Though Facey pumped him pretty hard during this second pig
repast, he could make nothing out of Sponge with regard to his
movements — our friend parrying all his inquiries with his " Mogg,"
and assurances that he could amuse himself. In vain Facey
represented that his Oncle Gilroy would be expecting them ; that
Mr. Hobler was ready for him to ride over on : Sponge wasn't
inclined to shoot, but begged Facey wouldn't stay at home on his
account. The fact was, Sponge meditated a bolt, and was in close
confab with Leather, in the Rose and Crown stables, arranging
matters, when the sound of his name in the yard caused him to
look out, when — oh, welcome sight ! — a Puddingpote Bower mes-
senger put Sir Harry's note in his hand, which had at length
arrived at Jog's through their very miscellaneous transit, called a
post. Sponge, in the joy of his heart, actually gave the lad a
shilling ! He now felt like a new man. He didn't care a rap for
Facey, and, ordering Leather to give him the hack and follow with
the hunters, he presently cantered out of town as sprucely as if all
was on the square.
When, however, Facey found how matters stood, he determined
to stop Sponge's things, which Leather resisted ; and, Facey
showing fight, Leather butted him with his head, sending him
backwards down stairs and putting his shoulder out. Leather
then marched off with the kit, amid the honours of war.
396
ME. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR
CHAPTER LIV.
BILLIARDS FA.CEY.
NONSUCH HOUSE AGAIN.
THE gallant inmates of Nonsuch House
had resolved themselves into a com-
mittee of speculation, as to whether Mr.
►Sponge was coming or not ; indeed,
they had been betting upon it, the odds
at first being a hundred to one that he
came, though they had fallen a point
or two on the arrival of the post with-
out an answer.
" Well, I say Mr. What-dy'e-call-him
— Sponge — doesn't come ! " exclaimed
Captain Seedeybuck, ashe lay full length,
with his shaggy greasy head on the fine
rose-coloured satin sofa, and his legs
cocked over the cushion.
" Why not ? " asked Miss Glitters,
who was beguiling the twilight half-
hour before candles with knitting.
" Don't know," replied Seedeybuck,
" don't know — have a presentiment he
twirling his moustache,
won't.'''
" Sure to come ! " exclaimed Captain Bouncey, knocking the
ashes off his cigar on to the fine Tournay carpet, "I'll lay ten to
one — ten fifties to one — he does, — a thousand to ten if you like."
If all the purses in the house had been clubbed together, we don't
believe they would have raised fifty pounds.
"What sort of a looking man is he ? " asked Miss Glitters, now
counting her loops.
"Oh — whoy — ha — hem — haw — he's just an ordinary sort of
lookin' man — nothin' 'tickler any wray," drawled Captain Seedey-
buck, now wetting and twirling his moustache.
" Two legs, a head, a back, and so on, I presume," observed the
lady.
" Just so," assented Captain Seedeybuck.
" He's a horsey lookin' sort o' man, I should say," observed
Captain Bouncey, " walks as if he ought to be ridin' — wears
vinegar tops."
" Hate vinegar tops," growled Seedeybuck.
Just then, in came Lady Scattercash, attended by Mr. Orlando
Bugles, the ladies' attractions having caused that distinguished
MR. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR. 397
performer to forfeit his engagement at the Surrey Theatre.
Captain Cutitfat, Bob Spangles, and Sir Harry quickly followed,
and the Sponge question was presently renewed.
" Who says old brown boots comes ? " exclaimed Seedeybuck
from the sofa.
" Who's that with his nasty nob on my fine satin sofa ? " asked
the lady.
" Bob Spangles," replied Seedeybuck.
"Nothing of the sort," rejoined the lady ; " and I'll trouble you
to get off."
" Can't — I've got a bone in my leg," rejoined the captain.
" I'll soon make you," replied her ladyship, seizing the squab,
and pulling it on to the floor.
As the captain was scrambling up, in came Peter — one of the
wageless footmen — with candles, which having distributed equit-
ably about the room, he approached Lady Scattercash, and askedr
in an independent sort of way, what room Mr. Soapsuds was to
have ?
"Soapsuds! — Soapsuds! — that's not his name," exclaimed her
ladyship.
" Sponge, you fool ! Soapey Sponge," exclaimed Cutitfat, who-
had ferreted out Sponge's nomme de Londres.
" He's not come, has he ? " asked Miss Glitters, eagerly.
" Yes, my lady — that's to say, miss," replied Peter.
" Come, has he ! " chorused three or four voices.
"Well, he must have a (hiccup) room," observed Sir Harry,
" The green — the one above the billiard-room will do," added he.
" But / have that, Sir Harry," exclaimed Miss Howard.
" Oh, it'll hold two well enough," observed Miss Glitters.
" Then you can be the second," replied Miss Howard, with a
toss of her head.
" Indeed ! " sneered Miss Glitters, bridling up. " I like that."
" Well, but where's the (hiccup) man to be put ? " asked Sir
Harry.
" There's Ladofwax's room," suggested her ladyship.
" The captin's locked the door and taken the key with him,'r
replied the footman ; " he said he'd be back in a day or two."
" Back in a (hiccup) or two ! " observed Sir Harry. " Where
is he gone ? "
The man smiled.
" Borrowed,'" observed Captain Quod, with an emphasis.
" Indeed ! " exclaimed Sir Harry ; adding, " well, I thought
that was Nabbum's gig with the old grey."
" He'll not be back in a hurry," observed Bouncey. " He'll be
like the Boulogne gents, who are always going to England but
never go."
398 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
" Pooi' Wax ! " observed Quod ; " he's a big fool, to give him
his due."
" If you give him his duo it's more than he gives other people,
it seems," observed Miss Howard.
" Oh, fie, Miss H. ! " exclaimed Captain Seedeybuck.
" Well, but the (hiccup) man must have a (hiccup) bed some-
where," observed Sir Harry ; adding to the footman, " you'd
better (hiccup) the door open, you know."
" Perhaps you'd better try what one of yours will do," observed
Bob Spangles, to the convulsion of the company.
In the midst of their mirth Mr. Bottleends was seen piloting
Mr. Sponge up to her ladyship.
" Mr. Sponge, my lady," said he, in as low and deferential a tone
as if he got his wages punctually every quarter-day.
" How do you do, Mr. Sponge ? " said her ladyship, tendering
him her hand with an elegant curtsy.
" How are you, Mr. (hiccup) Sponge ? " asked Sir Harry,
offering his ; " I believe you know the (hiccup) company ? " con-
tinued he, waving his hand around ; " Miss (hiccup) Glitters,
Captain (hiccup) Quod, Captain Bouncey, Mr. (hiccup) Bugles,
Captain (hiccup) Seedeybuck, and so on ; " whereupon Miss
Glitters curtsied, the gentlemen bobbed their heads and drew near
our hero, who had now stationed himself before the fire.
" Coldish, to-night," said he, stooping and placing both hands
to the bars. "Coldish," repeated he, rubbing his hands and
looking around.
" It generally is about this time of year, I think," observed Miss
Glitters, who was quite ready to enter for our friend.
" Hope it won't stop hunting," said Mr. Sponge.
" Hope not," replied Sir Harry ; " would be a bore if it did."
" I wonder you gentlemen don't prefer hunting in a frost,"
observed Miss Howard ; " one would think it would be just the
time you'd want a good warming."
" I don't agree with you, there," replied Mr. Sponge, looking
at her, and thinking she was not nearly so pretty as Miss Glitters.
" Do you hunt to-morrow ? " asked he of Sir Harry, not having
been able to obtain any information at the stables.
" (Hiccup) to-morrow ? Oh, I dare say we shall," replied Sir
Harry, who kept his hounds as he did his carriages, to be used
when wanted. " Dare say we shall," repeated he.
But though Sir Harry spoke thus encouragingly of their pros-
pects, he took no steps, as far as Mr. Sponge could learn, to carry
out the design. Indeed, the subject of hunting was never once
mentioned, the conversation after dinner, instead of being about
the Quorn, or the Pytchley, or Jack Thompson with the Ather-
stone, turning upon the elegance and lighting of the Casinos in
MP. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR.
399
the Adelaide Gallery and Windmill-street, and the relative merits
of those establishments over the Casino de Venise in High Holborn.
Nor did morning produce any change for the better, for Sir Harry
and all the captains came down in their usual flashy broken-down
player-looking attire, their whole thoughts being absorbed in
arranging for a pool at billiards, in which the ladies took part.
►So with billiards, brandy, and " 'baccy," — « 'baccy," brandy, and
billiards, varied with an occasional stroll about the grounds, the
non-sporting inmates of Nonsuch House beguiled the time, much
"ilR. SPOXGE, MY LADY."
to Mr. Sponge's disgust, whose soul was on fire and eager for the
fray. The reader's perhaps being the same, we will skip Christmas
and pass on to New- Year's Day.
'Twere almost superfluous to say that New- Year's Day is
always a great holiday. It is a day on which custom commands
people to be happy and idle, whether they have the means of
being happy and idle or not. It is a day for which happiness and
idleness are " booked," and parties are planned and arranged long
beforehand. Some go to the town, some to the country ; some
take rail ; some take steam ; some take greyhounds ; some take
gigs ; while others take guns and pop at all the little dickey-birds
that come in their way. "The rural population generally incline to
400 ME. SPONGE'S SPOETING TOUE.
a hunt. They are not very particular as to style, so long as there
are a certain number of hounds, and some men in scarlet, to blow
their horns, halloo, and crack their whips.
The population, especially the risiug population about Nonsuch
House, all inclined that way. A New- Year's Day's hunt with Sir
Harry had long been looked forward to by the little Raws, and
the little Spooneys, and the big and little Cheeks, and we don't
know how many others. Nay, it had been talked of by the elder
boys at their respective schools — we beg pardon, academies —
Doctor Switchington's, Mr. Latherington's, Mrs. Skelpers, and a
liberal allowance of boasting indulged in, as to how they would
show each other the way over the hedges and ditches. The thing
had long been talked of. Old Johnny Raw had asked Sir Harry
to arrange the day so long ago, that Sir Harry had forgotten all
about it. Sir Harry was one of those good-natured souls who
can't say " No " to any one. If anybody had asked if they might
set fire to his house, he would have said,
" Oh, (hiccup) certainly, my dear (hiccup) fellow, if it will give
you any (hiccup) pleasure."
Now, for the hiccup day.
It is generally a frost on New- Year's Day ; — however wet and
sloppy the weather may be up to the end of the year, it generally
turns over a new leaf on that day. New- Year's Day is generally
a bright, bitter, sunshiny day, with starry ice, and a most
decided anti-hunting feeling about it — light, airy, ringy, anything
but cheery for hunting.
Thus it was in Sir Harry Scattercash's county. Having smoked
and drank the old year out, the captains and company retired to
their couches without thinking about hunting. Mr. Sponge,
indeed, was about tired of asking when the hounds would be going
out. It was otherwise, however, with the rising generation, who
were up betimes, and began pouring in upon Nonsuch House in
every species of garb, on every description of steed, by every line
and avenue of approach.
" Halloo ! what's up now ? " exclaimed Lady Scattercash, as
she caught view of the first batch rounding the corner to the
front of the house.
"Who have we here?" asked Miss Glitters, as a ponderous,
party-coloured clown, on a great, curly-coated cart-horse, brought
up the rear.
" Early callers," observed Captain Seedcybuck, eating away
complacently.
"Friends of Mr. Sponge's, most likely," suggested Captain
Quod.
"Some of the little Sponge's come to see their pa, p'raps," lisped
Miss Howard, pretending to be shocked after she had said it.
MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 401
"Bravo, Miss Howard !" exclaimed Captain Cutitfat, clapping
his hands.
"i said nothing, captain," observed the young lady with
becoming prudery.
" Here we are again ! " exclaimed Captain Quod, as a troop of
various-sized urchins, in pea-jackets, Avith blue noses and red
comforters, on very shaggy ponies, the two youngest swinging
in panniers over an ass, drew up alongside of the first comers.
" Whose sliding-scale of innocence is that, I wonder ! "
exclaimed Miss Howard, contemplating the variously sized chubby
faces through the window.
" He, he, he ! ho, ho, ho ! " giggled the guests.
Another batch of innocence now hove in sight.
" Oh, those are the little (hiccup) Raws," observed Sir Harry,
catching sight of the sky-blue collar of the servant's long drab
coat. " Good chap, old Johnny Rawr ; ask them to (hiccup) in,"
continued he, " and give them some (hiccup) cherry brandy ; "
and thereupon Sir Harry began nodding and smiling, and making
signs to them to come in. The youngsters, however, maintained
their position.
" The little stupexes ! " exclaimed Miss Howard, going to the
window, and throwing up the sash. " Come in, young gents ! "
cried she, in a commanding tone, addressing herself to the last
comers. " Come in, and have some toffy and lollypops ! D'ye
hear ? " continued she, in a still louder voice, and motioning her
head toward the door.
The boys sat mute.
" You little stupid monkeys," muttered she in an under-tonc,
as the cold air struck upon her head. " Come in, like good boys,"
added she, in a louder key, pointing with her linger towards the
door.
" Nor, thenk ye ! " at last drawled the elder of the boys.
" Nor, thenk ye ! " repeated Miss Howard, imitating the drawl.
" Why not ? " asked she, sharply.
The boy stared stupidly.
" Why won'o you come in ? " asked she, again addressing him.
" Don't know," replied the boy, staring vacantly at his
younger brother, as he rubbed a pearl off his nose on the back of
his hand.
" Don't know ! " ejaculated Miss Howard, stamping her little
foot on the Turkey carpet.
" Mar said we hadn't," whined the younger boy, coming to the
rescue of his brother.
" Mar said avc hadn't ! " retorted the fair interrogator. " Why
not ? "
" Don't know," replied the elder.
D V
402 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUP.
" Don't know ! yon little stupid animal," snapped Miss
Howard, the cold air increasing the warmth of her temper. " I
wonder what you do know. Why did your ma say you were not to
come in ? " continued she, addressing the younger one.
" Because — because," hesitated he, " she said the house was
full of trumpets."
" Trumpets, you little scamp ! " exclaimed the lady, reddening
up ; " I'll get a whip and cut your jacket into ribbons on your
back." And thereupon she banged down the window and closed
the conversation.
CIIAPTEE LV.
THE RISING GENERATION.
The lull that prevailed in the breakfast-room on Miss Howard's
return from the window was speedily interrupted by fresh arrivals
before the door. The three Master Baskets in coats and lay-over
collars, Master Shutter in a jacket and trousers, the two Master
Bulgeys in woollen overalls with very large hunting whips,
Master Brick in a velveteen shoo ting- jacket, and the two Cheeks
with their tweed trousers thrust into hddle-case boots, on all sorts
of ponies and family horses, began pawing and disordering the
gravel in front of Nonsuch House.
George Cheek was the head boy at Mr. Latherington's classical
and commercial academy, at Flagellation Hall (late the Crown and
Sceptre Hotel and Posting House, on the Bankstonc Road), where,
for forty pounds a year, eighty young gentlemen were fitted for
the pulpit, the senate, the bar, the counting-house, or anything
else their fond parents fancied them fit for.
Gcoi'ge was a tall stripling, out at the elbows, in at the knees,
with his red knuckled hands thrust a long way through his tight
coat. He was just of that awkward age when boys fancy them-
selves men, and men arc not prepared to lower themselves to their
level. Ladies get on better with them than men : cither the
ladies are more tolerant of twaddle, or their discerning eyes see
in the gawky youth the germ of future usefulness. George was on
capital terms with himself. He was the oracle of Mr. Lather-
ington's school, where he was not only head boy and head swell,
but a considerable authority on sporting matters. He took in
BclTs Life, which he read from beginning to end, and " noted its
contents," as they say in the city.
" I'll tell you what all these little (hiccup) animals will be
MB, SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 403
wanting," observed Sir Harry, as lie cayenne-peppered a turkey's
leg ; " they'll be come for a (hiccup) hunt."
"Wish they may get it," observed Captain Seedeybuck; adding,
" Why, the ground's ns hard as iron."
" There's a big boy," observed Miss Howard, eyeing George
Check through the window.
" Let's have him in, and see what he's got to say for himself,"
said Miss Glitters.
" You ask him, then," rejoined Miss Howard, who didn't care
to risk another rub.
"Peter," said Lady Scattercash to the footman, who had been
loitering about, listening to the conversation, — " Peter, go and ask
that tall boy with the blue neckerchief and the riband round his
hat to come in."
" Yes, my lady," replied Peter.
"And the (hiccup) Spooneys, and the (hiccup) Bulgeys, and
the (hiccup) Piaws, and all the little (hiccup) rascals," added Sir
Harry.
" The Raws won't come, Sir II.," observed Miss Howard,
soberly.
" Bigger fools they," replied Sir Harry.
Presently Peter returned with a tail, headed by George Cheek,
who came striding and slouching up the room, and stuck himself
down on Lady Scattercash's right. The small boys squeezed
themselves in as they could, one by Captain Seedeybuck, another
by Captain Bouncey, one by Miss Glitters, a fourth by Miss
Howard, and so on. They all fell ravenously upon the
provisions.
Gobble, gobble, gobble, was the order of the day.
""Well, and how often have you been flogged this half?"
asked Lady Scattercash of George Cheek, as she gave him a cup of
coffee.
Her ladyship hadn't much liking for youths of his age, and would
just as soon vex them as not.
" Well, and how often have you been flogged this half ? "
asked she again, not getting an answer to her first inquiry.
" Not at all," growled Cheek, reddening up.
" Oh, flogged ! " exclaimed Miss Glitters. "You wouldn't have
a young man like him flogged ; it's only the little boys that get
that — is it, Mister Check?"
" To be sure not," assented the youth.
" Mister Cheek's a man," observed Miss Glitters, eyeing him
archly as he sat stuffing his mouth with currant-loaf plentifully
besmeared with raspberry-jam. " He'll be wanting a wife soon,"
added she, smiling across the table at Captain Seedeybuck.
"1 question but he's got one," observed the captain.
d d 2
404 ME. SPONGE'S SPOETING TOUE.
" No, ar haven't," replied Cheek, pleased at the imputation.
" Then there's a chance for you, Miss G-.," retorted the captain.
" Mrs. George Cheek would look well on a glazed card with gilt
edges."
" What a cub ! " exclaimed Miss Howard, in disgust.
"You're another," replied Master Cheek, amidst a roar of
laughter from the party.
"Well, but you ask your master if you mayn't have a wife
next half, and we'll see if we can't arrange matters," observed
Miss Glitters.
" Noo, ar shnrnt," replied George, stuffing his mouth full of
preserved apricot.
" Why not ? " asked Miss Howard.
" Because — because — ar'll have somcthin' younger," replied
George.
" Bravo, young Chesterfield ! rt exclaimed Miss Howard ; adding,
" what it is to be thick with Lord John Manners ! "
" Ar'm not" growled the boy, amidst the mirth of the company.
" Well, but what must we do with these little (hiccup) ? " asked
Sir Harry, at last rising from the breakfast-table, and looking
listlessly round the company for an answer.
" 0 ! liquor them well, and send them homo to their mammas,"
suggested Captain Bounccy, who was all for the drink.
""But they won't take their (hiccup)," replied Sir Harry,
holding up a Curacoa bottle to show how little had disappeared.
" Try them with cherry brandy," suggested Captain Seedeybuck ;
adding, "it's sweeter. Now, young man," continued he, ad-
dressing George Cheek, as he poured him out a wine-glassful,
"this is the real Dafiy's elixir that you read of in the papers. It's
the finest compound that ever was known. It will make your
hair curl, your whiskers grow, and you a man before your mother."
"N-o-a, n-o-ar, don't want any more," growled the young
gentleman, turning away in disgust. " Ar won't drink any more."
" Well, but be sociable," observed Miss Howard, helping herself
to a glass.
" N-o-a, no, ar don't want to be sociable," growled he, diving
into his trouser-poekets, and wriggling about on his chair.
" Well, then, what will you do ? " asked Miss Howard.
" Hunt," replied the youth.
" Hunt! " exclaimed Bob Spangles ; " why, the ground's as
hard as bricks."
" N-o-a, it's not," replied the youth.
"What a whelp!" exclaimed Miss Howard, rising from the
table in disgust.
"My uncle, Jellyboy, wouldn't let such a frost stop him, I
know," observed the boy.
ME. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 405
" "Who's your uncle Jelljboy ? " asked Miss Glitters.
" He's a farmer, and keeps a few harriers at Scutley," observed
Bob Spangles, sotto voce.
" And is that your extraordinary horse with all the legs ? "
asked Miss Howard, putting her glass to her eye, and scrutinising
a lank, woolly-coated weed, getting led about by a blue-aproned
gardener. " Is that your extraordinary horse, with all the legs ? "
repeated she, following the animal about with her glass.
" Hoots, it hasn't more legs than other people's," growled
George.
" It's got ten, at all events," replied Miss Howard, to the
astonishment of the juveniles.
" Nor, it hasn't," replied George.
"Yes, it has," rejoined the lady.
"Nor, it hasn't," repeated George.
" Come and see," said the lady ; adding, " perhaps it's put out
some since you got off."
George slouched up to where she stood at the window.
" Now," said he, as the gardener turned the horse round, and he
saw it had but four, " how many has it ? "
" Ten ! " replied Miss Howard.
" Hoots," replied George, " you think it's April Fool's Day, I
dare say."
"No, I don't," replied Miss Howard; "but I maintain your
horse has ten legs. See, now ! " continued she, " what do you
call these coming here ? "
" His two forelegs," replied George.
" Well, two fours — twice four's eight, eh ? and his two hind
ones make ten."
" Hoots," growled George, amidst the mirth of his comrades,
" you're makin' a fool o' one."
""Well, but what must I do with all these little (hiccup)
creatures ? " asked Sir Harry again, seeing the plot still thickening
outside.
" Turn them out a bagman," suggested Mr. Sponge, in an under-
tone ; adding, " "Watchorn has a three-legged 'un, I know, in the
hay-loft."
" Oh, Watchorn wouldn't (hiccup) on such a day as this," replied
Sir Harry. " New-Year's Day, too — most likely away, seeing his
young hounds at walk."
" We might see, at all events," observed Mr. Sponge.
" "Well," assented Sir Harry, ringing the bell. " Peter," said he,
as the servant answered the summons, " I wish you would (hiccup)
to Mr. Watchorn's, and ask if he'll have the kindness to (hiccup)
down here." Sir Harry was obliged to be polite, for Watchorn,
too, was on the " free list," as Miss Glitters called it.
403 MB. SPONGE'S SPOBTING TOUR.
"Yes, Sir Harry," replied Peter, leaving the room.
Presently Peter's white legs were seen wending their way among
the laurels and evergreens, in the direction of Mr. Watchorn's
house ; he having a house and grass for six cows, all whose milk,
he declared, went to the puppies and young hounds. Luckily, or
unluckily, perhaps, Mr. Watchorn was at home, and was in the
net of shaving as Peter entered. He was a square-built, dark-
laced, dark-haired, good-looking, ill-looking fellow, who cultivated
his face on the four-course system of husbandry. First, he had a
bare fallow — we mean a clean shave ; that of course was followed
by a full crop of hair all over, except on his upper lip ; then he
had a soldier's shave, off by the ear ; which in turn was followed
by a Newgate frill. The latter was his present style. He had
now no whiskers, but an immense protuberance of bristly black
hair, rising like a wave above his kerchief. Though he cared no
more about hunting than his master, he was very fond of his red
coat, which he wore on all occasions, substituting a hat for a cap
when " off duty," as he called it. Having attired himself in his
best scarlet, of which he claimed three a year, — one for wet days,
one for dry days, another for high days — very natty kerseymere
shorts and gaiters, with a small-striped, standing-collar, toilcnctte
waistcoat, he proceeded to obey the summons.
" Watchorn," said Sir Harry, as the important gentleman
appeared at the breakfast-room door, — " Watchorn, these young
(hiccup) gentlemen want a (hiccup) hunt."
" 0 ! want must be their master, Sir 'Any," replied Watchorn,
with a broad grin on his flushed face, for he had been drinking all
night, and was half drunk then.
" Can't you manage it ? " asked Sir Harry, mildly.
" 'Ow is't possible, Sir 'Any," asked the huntsman, " 'ow is't
possible ? No man's fonder of 'untin' than I am, but to turn out
on sich a day as this would be a daring — a desperate violation of
all the laws of registered propriety. The Pope's bull would be
nothin' to it ! "
" How so ? " asked Sir Harry, puzzled with the jumble.
" How so ? " repeated Watchorn ; " how so ? Why, in the fust
place, it's a mortal 'ard frost, 'arder nor hiron ; in the second place,
I've got no arrangements made, — you can't turn out a pack of 'igh-
bred fox-'ounds as you would a lot of 'staggers' or ' muggers ; '
and, in the third place, you'll knock all your nags to bits, and they
are a deal better in their wind than they are on their legs, as it is.
No, Sir 'Any — no," continued he, slowly and thoughtfully. "No, Sir
'Any, no. Be Cardinal Wiseman, for once, Sir 'Any ; be Cardinal
Wiseman for once, and don't think of it."
" Well," replied Sir Harry, looking at George Check, "I suppose
there's no help for it."
MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 407
" Tt was quite a thaw where I came from," observed Cheek,
half to Sir Harry and half to the huntsman.
" 'Deed, sir, Viced," replied Mr. Watchorn, with a chuck of his
fringed chin, "it generally is a thaw everywhere but where hounds
meet."
" My uncle Jcllyboy wouldn't be stopped by such a frost as
th;3," observed Check.
" 'Deed, sir, 'deed," replied Watchom, "your uncle Jellyboy'sa
very fine feller, I dare say, — very fine feller ; no such conjurors in
these parts as he is. What man dare, I dare ; he who dares more,
is no man,''' added Watchorn, giving his fat thigh a hearty slap.
" Well done, old Talliho ! " exclaimed Miss Glitters. " We'll
have you on the stage next."
" What will you wet your whistle with after your fine speech ? "
asked Lady Scattercash.
" Take a tumbler of chumpine, if there is any," replied
Watchorn, looking about for a long-necked bottle.
" Fear you'll come on badly," observed Captain Secdeybuck,
holding up an empty one, u- for Bounccy and I have just finished
the last ; " the captain chucking the bottle sideways on to the floor,
and rolling it towards its companions in the corner.
" Have a fresh bottle," suggested Lady Scattercash, drawing
the bell-string at her chair.
" Champagne," said her ladyship, as the footman answered the
summons.
" Tico on 'em ! " exclaimed Captain Bounccy.
" Three ! " shouted Sir Harry.
" We'll have a regular set-to," observed Miss Howard, who was
fond of champagne.
" New-Year's Day," replied Bounccy, " and ought to be properly
observed."
Presently, Fiz — z, — pop, — bang ! Fiz — z, — pop, — bang ! went
the bottles ; and, as the hissing beverage foamed over the bottle-
necks, glasses were sought and held out to catch the creaming
contents.
"Here's a (hiccup) happy new year to us all !" exclaimed Sir
Harry, drinking off his wine.
" H-o-o-ray ! " exclaimed the company in irregular order, as
they drank off theirs.
" We'll drink Mr. Watchorn and the Nonsuch hounds ! "
exclaimed Bob Spangles, as Watchorn, having drained off his
tumbler, replaced it on the sideboard.
" With all the honours ! " exclaimed Captain Cutitfat, filling
liis glass and rising to give the time; "Watchorn, your good
health ! " " Watchorn, your good health ! " " Watchorn, your
good health ! " sounded from all parts, which Watchorn kept
408 MP. SPONGE'S SPOUTING 10 UP.
acknowledging, and looking about for the means to return the
compliment, bis friends being more intent upon drinking his
health than upon supplying him with. wine. At last he caught
the third of a bottle of " chumpine," and emptying it into his
tumbler, held it up while he thus addressed them :
" Gen'lemen all ! " said he, " I thank you most 'tieklarly for
this mark of your 'tention (applause) ; it's most gratifyin' to my
feelins to be thus remembered (applause). I could say a great
deal more, but the liquor won't wait." So saying, he drained off
his glass while the wine effervesced.
" Well, and what d'ye (hiccup) of the weather now ? " asked
Sir Harry, as his huntsman again deposited his tumbler on the
sideboard.
"Ton my soul! Sir 'Arry," replied Watchorn, quite briskly,
" I really think we might 'unt — we might try, at all events. The
day seems changed, some'uw," added he, staring vacantly out of
the window on the bright sunny landscape, with the leafless trees
dancing before his eyes.
"I think so," said Sir Harry. "What do you think, Mr.
Sponge ? " added he, appealing to our hero.
" Half an hour may make a great difference," observed Mr.
Sponge. " The sun will then be at its best."
" We'll try, at all events," observed Sir Harry.
" That's right," exclaimed George Check, waving a scarlet
bandana over his head.
" I shall expect you to ride up to the 'ounds, young gent,"
observed Watchorn, darting an angry look at the speaker.
" Won't I, old boy ! " exclaimed George ; "ride over you, if you
don't get out of the way."
" 'Deed," sneered the huntsman, whisking about to leave the
room ; muttering, as he passed behind the large Indian screen at
the door, something about "jawing jackanapes, well called Cheek."
" 'Unt in 'alf an hour ! " exclaimed Watchorn, from the steps
of the front door ; an announcement that was received by the
little Raws, and little Spooncys, and little Baskets, and little
Bulgeys, and little Bricks, and little others, with rapturous
applause.
All was now commotion and hurry-scurry inside and out ;
glasses were drained, lips Avipcd, and napkins thrown hastily away,
while ladies and gentlemen began grouping and talking about hats
and habits, and what they should ride.
"You go with me, Orlando," said Lady Scattcrcash to our
friend Bugles, recollecting the quantity of diachylon plaster it had
taken to repair the damage of his former equestrian performance.
" You go with me, Orlando," said she, " in the phaeton ; and I'll
lend Lucy," nodding towards Miss Glitters, "my habit and horse."
ME. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 409
" Who can lend mc a coat ? " asked Captain Secdeybuck,
examining the skirts of a much frayed invisible-green surtout.
" A coat ! " replied Captain Quod ; " I can lend you a Join-
villc, if that will do as well," the captain feeling his own extensive
one as he spoke.
" Hardly," said Sccdeybuck, turning about to ask Sir Harry.
" What ! — you are going to give AVatchorn a tussle, are you ? "
asked Captain Cutitfat of George Cheek, as the latter began
adjusting the fox-toothed riband about his hat.
" I believe you," replied George, with a knowing jerk of his
head ; adding, "it won't take much to beat him."
" What ! he's a slow 'un, is he ? " asked Cutitfat, in an under-
tone.
" Slowest coach I ever saw," growled George.
" Won't ride, won't he ? " asked the Captain.
" Not if he can help it," replied George ; adding, " but he's
such a shocking huntsman — never saw such a huntsman in all my
life."
George's experience lay between his uncle Jellyboy, who rode
eighteen stone and a half, Tom Scramble, the pedestrian huntsman
of the Slowfoot hounds, near Mr. Latherington's, and Mr.
Watchorn. But critics, especially hunting ones, are all ready
made, as Lord Byron said.
"Well, we'd better disperse and get ready," observed Bob
Spangles, making for the door ; whereupon the tide of population
flowed that way, and the room was presently cleared,
George Check and the juveniles then returned to their friends
in the front ; and George got up pony races among the Johnny
Raws, the Baskets, the Bulgeys, and the Spooncys, thrice round
the carriage ring and a distance, to the detriment of the gravel
and the discomfiture of the flower-bed in the centre.
CHAPTER LVL
THE KENXEL AXD THE STUD.
We will now accompany Mr. Watchorn to the stable, whither
his resolute legs carried him as soon as the champagne wrought
the wonderful change in his opinion of the weather, though, as he
every now and then crossed a spangled piece of ground upon
which the sun had not struck, or stopped to crack a piece of ice
with his toe, he shook his heated head and doubted whether he
was Cardinal Wiseman for making the attempt. Nothing but the
410 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
fact of his considering it perfectly immaterial whether he was
with his hounds or not encouraged him in the undertaking.
" Dash them !" said he, " they must just take care of themselves."
With which laudable resolution, and an inward anathema at
George Cheek, he left off trying the ground and tapping the ice.
Watchorn's hurried, excited appearance produced little satisfac-
tion among the grooms and helpers at the stables, who were
congratulating themselves on the opportune arrival of the frost,
and arranging how they should spend their New- Year's Day.
" Look sharp, lads ! look sharp ! " exclaimed he, clapping his
hands as he ran up the yard. " Look sharp, lads ! look sharp ! "
repeated he, as the astonished helpers showed their bare arms and
dirty shirts at the partially opened doors, responsive to the sound.
" Send Snaffle here, send Drown here, send Green here, send
Snooks here," exclaimed he, with the air of a man in authority.
Now Snaffle was the stud-groom, a personage altogether inde-
pendent of the huntsman, and, in the ordinary course of nature,
Snaffle had just as much right to send for AYatchorn as Watchorn
had to send for him ; but Watchorn being, as we said before, some
Avay connected with Lady Scattercash, he just did as he liked
among the whole of them, and they were too good judges to rebel.
" Snaffle," said he, as the portly, well-put-on personage waddled
up to him ; " Snaffle," said he, " how many sound 'osses have
you?"
" J\one, sir," replied Snaffle, confidently.
" How many three-legged 'uns have you that can go, then ? "
" 0 ! a good many," replied Snaffle, raising his hands to tell
them off on his fingers. " There's Hop-the-twig, and Hannah
Bell (Hannibal), and Ugly Jade, and Sir-danapalis — the Baronet
as we calls him — and Harkaway, and Hit-me-hard, and Single-
peeper, and Jack's-alivc, and Groggytoes, and Greedyboy, and
Putf-and-blow ; that's to say two and three-legged 'uns, at least,"
observed Snaffle, qualifying his original assertion.
" Ah, well ! " said Watchorn, " that'll do — two legs are too
many for some of the rips they'll have to carry . Let me
see," continued he, thoughtfully, " I'll ride 'Arkaway."
" Yes, sir," said Snaffle.
" Sir 'Any, 'It-me-'ard."
" Won't you put him on Sir-danapalis ? " asked Snaffle.
" No," replied AVatchorn, " no ; I wants to save the Bart. — I
wants to save the Bart. Sir 'Any must ride 'It-mc-'ard."
" Is her ladyship going ? " asked Snaffle.
" Her ladyship drives," replied AVatchorn ; " And you, Snooks,"
addressing a bare-armed helper, " tell Mr. Traces to turn her out
a pony phaeton and pair, with fresh rosettes and all complete, you
know."
MB. SPONGE'S SPOBTING TOUB. 411
" Yes, sir," said Snooks, with a, touch of his forelock.
"And you'd better tell Mr. Leather to have a horse for his
master," observed "Watchorn to Snaffle, " unless as how you wish
to put him on one of yours."
"Not I," exclaimed Snaffle; " have enough to mount without
him. Dye know how many'll be goin' ?" asked he.
" No," replied "Watchorn, hurrying off; adding, as he went,
" oh, hang 'em, just saddle 'cm all, and let 'cm scramble for 'cm."
The scene then changed. Instead of hissing helpers pursuing
their vocations in stable or saddle-room, they began bustling about
with saddles on their heads and bridles in their hands, the day of
expected ease being changed into one of unusual trouble. Mr.
Leather declared, as he swept the clothes over Multum-in-Parvo's
tail, that it was the most unconscionable proceeding he had ever
witnessed ; and muttered something about the quiet comforts he
had left at Mr. Jogglehury Crowdcy's, hinting his regret at
having come to Sir Harry's, in a sort of dialogue with himself as
he saddled the horse. The beauties of the last place always come
out strong when a servant gets to another. But we must
accompany Mr. Watchorn.
Though his early career with the Cambcrwcll and Balham
Hill Union harriers had not initiated him much iuto the delicacies
of the chase, yet, recollecting the presence of Mr. Sponge, he felt
suddenly seized with a desire of "doing things as they should
be ; " and he went muttering to the kennel, thinking how he
would leave Dinnerbell and Prosperous at home, and how the pack
would look quite as well without Frantic running half a field
ahead, or old Stormer and Stunner bringing up the rear with long
protracted howls. He doubted, indeed, whether he would take
Desperate, wTho was an incorrigible skirtcr ; but as she was nob
much worse in this respect than Chatterer or Harmony, who was
also an inveterate babbler, and the pack would look rather short
without them, he reserved the point for further consideration, as
the judges say.
His speculations were interrupted by arriving at the kennel ;
and, finding the door fast, he looked under the slate, and above
the frame, and inside the window, and on the wall, for the key ;
and his shake, and kick, and clatter, were only answered by a full
chorus from the excited company within.
" Hang the feller ! what's got 'ini ! " exclaimed he, meaning
Joe Haggish, the feeder, whom he expected to find there.
Joe, however, was absent ; not holiday-making, but on a
diplomatic visit to Mr. Grcystoncs, the miller, at Splashford, who
had positively refused to supply any more meal, until his " little
bill " (430?.) for the three previous years was settled ; and
flesh being very scarce in the country, the hounds were quite light
412 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
and fit to go. Joe had gone to try and coax Grcystones out of a
ton or two of meal, on the strength of its being New-Year's Day.
" Dash the feller ! wot's got 'im ? " exclaimed Watchorn, seizing
the latch, and rattling it furiously. The melody of the hungry
pack increased. " 'Ord rot the door ! " exclaimed the infuriated
huntsman, setting his back against it, when, at the first push, open
it flew. Watchorn fell back, and the astonished pack poured over
his prostrate body, regardless alike of his holiday coat, his tidy tic,
aud toilenette vest. What a scrimmage ! what a kick-up was
there ! Away the hounds scampered, fowling and howling, some
up to the flesh-wheel, to see if there was any meat ; some to the
bone heap, to sec if there was any there ; others down to the
dairy, to try and affect an entrance in it ; while Launcher, and
Lightsome, aud Burster, rushed to the back-yard of Nonsuch
House, and were presently over ears in the pig-pail.
" Get me my horn ! — get me my whop ! — get mo my cap ! — get
me my bouts ! " exclaimed Watchorn, as he recovered his legs, and
saw his wife eyeing the scene from the door. " Get me my bouts !
— get me my cap ! — get me my whop ! — get me my horn, woman ! "
continued he, reversing the order of things, and rubbing the hounds'
fcetmarks off his clothes as he spoke.
Mrs. Watchorn was too well drilled to dwell upon orders, and
she met her lord and master in the passage with the enumerated
articles in her hand. Watchorn having deposited himself on an
cntrancc-hall chair — for it was a roomy, well-furnished house,
having been the steward's while there was anything to take care of
— Mrs. Watchorn proceeded to strip off his gaiters while he
drew on his boots and crowned himself with his cap. Mrs.
Watchorn then buckled on his spurs, and he hurried off, horn in
hand, desiring her to have him a basin of turtle-soup ready against
lie came in ; adding, " She knew where to get it." The frosty
air then resounded with the twang, twang, twang of his horn, and
hounds began drawing up from all quarters, j ust as sportsmen cast
up at a meet from no one knows where.
" Re-hero, hounds — lie-here, good dogs ! " cried he, coaxing and
making much of the first-comers : " he-here, Galloper, old boy ! "
continued he, diving into his coat-pocket, and throwing him a bit
of biscuit. The appearance of food had a very encouraging
effect, for forthwith there was a general rush towards Watchorn,
and it was only by rating and swinging his " whop " about that
he prevented the pack from pawing, and perhaps downing him.
At length, having got them somewhat tranquillised, he set off on
his return to the stables, coaxing the shy hounds, and rating and
rapping those that seemed inclined to break away. Thus he
managed to march into the stable-yard in pretty good order, just
as the house party arrived in the opposite direction, attired in the
3111. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 413
most extraordinary and incongruous habiliments. There -was
Bob Spangles, in a swallow-tailed, mulberry-coloured scarlet, that
looked like an old pen-wiper, white duck trousers, and lack-lustre
Napoleon boots ; Captain Cutitfat, in a smart new " Moses and
Son's " straight-cut scarlet, with blood-hound heads on the
buttons, yellow-ochre leathers, and Wellington boots with drab
knee-caps ; little Bouncey in a tremendously baggy long-backed
scarlet, whose gaping outside-pockets showed that they had carried
its late owner's hands as well as his handkerchief ; the clumsy device
on the tarnished buttons looking quite as much like sheep's-heads
as foxes'. Bouncey 's tight tweed trousers were thrust into a pair
of wide fisherman's boots, which, but for his little roundabout
stomach, would have swallowed him up bodily. Captain Quod
appeared in a venerable dress-coat of the Melton Hunt, made in
the popular reign of Mr. Errington, whose much-stained and
smeared silk facings bore testimony to the good cheer it had seen.
As if in contrast to the light airiness of this garment, Quod had
on a tremendously large shaggy brown waistcoat, with horn buttons,
a double tier of pockets, and a nick out in front. With an unfair
partiality his nether man was attired in a pair of shabby old
black, or rather brown, dress trousers, thrust into long Wellington
boots with brass heel spurs. Captain Secdcybuck had on a spruce
swallow-tailed green coat of Sir Harry's, a pair of old tweed
trousers of his own, thrust into long chamois-leather opera -boots,
with red morocco tops, giving the whole a very unique and novel
appearance. Mr. Orlando Bugles, though going to drive with my
lady, thought it incumbent to put on his jack-boots, and appeared
in kerseymere shorts, and a highly f ragged and furred blue frock-
coat, with the corner of a musked cambric kerchief acting the
part of a star on his breast.
" Here comes old sixteen-string'd Jack ? " exclaimed Bob
Spangles, as his brother-in-law, Sir Harry, came hitching and
limping along, all strings, and tapes, and ends, as usual, followed
by Mr. Sponge in the strict and severe order of sporting costume ;
double-stitched, back-stitched, sleeve-strapped, pull-devil, pull-baker
coat, broad corduroy vest with fox-teeth buttons, still broader
corded breeches, and the redoubtable vinegar tops. " Now we're
all ready ! " exclaimed Bob, working his arms as if anxious to be
off, and giving a shrill shilling-gallery whistle with his fingers,
causing the stable-doors to fly open, and the variously tackled
steeds to emerge from their stalls.
" A horse ! ahorse ! my kingdom for a horse ! " exclaimed Miss
Glitters, running up as fast as her long habit, or rather Lady
Scattercash's long habit, would allow her. " A horse ! a horse !
my kingdom for a horse ! " repeated she, diving into the throng.
" White Surrey is saddled for the field," replied Mr. Orlando
414 ME. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUP..
Bugles, drawing himself up pompously, and waving his right hand
gracefully towards her ladyship's Arab palfrey, inwardly congratu-
lating himself that Miss Glitters was going to be bumped upon it
instead of him.
"Give us a leg up, Secdcy ! " exclaimed Lucy Glitters to the
"gent " of the green coat, fearing that Miss Howard, who was a
little behind, might claim, the horse.
Captain Sccdeybuck seized her pretty little uplifted foot and
vaulted her into the saddle as light as a cork. Taking the horse
gently by the mouth, she gave him the slightest possible touch
with the whip, and moved him about at will, instead of fret-
ting and fighting him as the clumsy, heavy-handed Bugles had
done. She looked beautiful on horseback, and for a time riveted
the attention of our sportsmen. At length they began to think of
themselves, and then there were such climbiugs on, and clu tellings,
and catchings, and clingings, and genUij-\wg%, and who-ho-ings,
and who-ah-ings, and questionings if " such a horse was quiet ? "
if another " could leap well ? " if a third " had a good mouth ? "
and whether a fourth " ever ran away ? "
" Take my port-stirrup up two 'oles ! " exclaimed Captain
Bouncey from the top of high Hop-thc-twig, sticking out a leg to
let the groom do it.
The captain had affected the sea instead of the land-service,
while a betting-list keeper, and found the bluff sailor character
very taking.
" Avast there ! " exclaimed he, as the groom ran the buckle up
to the desired hole. " Now," said he, gathering up the reins in a
bunch, " how many knots an hour can this 'orse go ? "
'• Twenty," replied the man, thinking he meant miles.
"Let her go then ! " exclaimed the captain, kicking the horse's
sides with his spurless heels.
Mr. TVatchorn now mounted Harkaway ; Sir Harry scrambled
on to Hit-me hard ; Miss Howard was hoisted on to Groggytoes,
and all the rest being "fit " with horses of some sort or other, and
the races in the front being over, the juveniles poured into the
yard, Lady Scattercash's pony-phaeton turned out, and our friends
were at length ready for a start.
... -^-/-^
As?'1
MB. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUE. 415
CHAPTER LVII.
TEE HUNT.
"While the foregoing arrangements were in progress, Mr.
Watchorn had desired Slarkey the knife-hoy, to go into the old
hay-] oft and take the three-legged fox he would find, and put him
down among the laurels by the summer-house, where he would
draw up to him all "reg'lar" like. Accordingly, Slarkey went,
but the old cripple having mounted the rafters, Slarkey didn't see
him, or rather seeing but one fox, he clutched him, with a greater
regard to his not biting him than to seeing how many legs he had ;
consequently he bagged an uncommonly fine old dog fox, that Wiley
Tom had just stolen from Lord Scamperdalc's new cover at Faggot-
furze ; and it was not until Slarkey put him down among the
bushes, and saw how lively he went, that he found his mistake.
However, there was no help for it, and he had just time to pocket
the bag when Watchorn's half-drunken cheer, and the reverberat-
ing cracks of ponderous whips on either side of the Dean, announced
the approach of the pack.
" He-leu in there ! " cried Watchorn to the hounds. " 'Ord,
dommce, but it's slippy," said he to himself. " Have at him,
Plunderer, good dog ! / wish I may be Cardinal Wiseman for
comin'," added he, seeing how his breath showed on the air.
" Ho-o-i-cJcs ! pash 'im hup ! I'll be dashed if I shan't be down ! "
exclaimed he, as his horse slid a long slide. " He-leu, in ! Con-
queror, old boy ! " continued he, exclaiming loud enough for Mr.
Sponge who was drawing near to hear, " find us a fox that'll give
us five and forty minnits ! " the speaker inwardly hoping they
might chop their bagman in cover. " Y-o-o-iclcs ! rout him out ! "
continued he, getting more energetic. " Y-o-o-iclcs ! wind him !
Y-o-o-iclcs ! stir us hup a teaser ! "
" No go, I think," observed George Check, ambling up on his
leggy weed.
" No go, ye young infidel," growled Watchorn, " who taught
you to talk about go's, I wonder ; ought to be at school larnin' to
cipher, or ridin' the globes," Mr. Watchorn not exactly knowing
what the term " use of the globes," meant. " D'ye call that
noihirt I " exclaimed he, taking off his cap as he viewed the fox
stealing along the gravel walk ; adding to himself, as he saw his
even action, and full, well-tagged brush, " 'Ord rot him, he's got
hold of the wrong 'un ! "
It was, however, no time for thought. In an instant the welkin
410 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
ran?- with the outburst of the pack and the clamour of the fiehl.
"Talli ho!" "Talli ho!" " Talli ho!" "Hoop!" "Hoop!'
" Hoop ! " cried a score of voices, and " Twang ! twang ! twang ! "
went the shrill horn of the huntsman. The whips, too, stood in
their stirrups, cracking their ponderous thongs, which sounded
like guns upon the frosty air, and contributed their " Get together !
get togetner, hounds ! " " Hark awag ! " " Hark away ! " " Hark
awag ! " " Hark ! " to the general uproar. Oh, what a row, what
a riot, what a racket !
Watchorn being " in " for it, and recollecting how many saw a
start who never thought of seeing a finish, immediately got his
horse by the head, and singled himself out from the crowd now
pressing at his horse's heels, determining, if the hounds didn't run
into their fox in the park, to ride them off the scent at the very
first opportunity. The " chumpine " being still alive within
him, in the excitement of the moment he leaped the hand-gate
leading out of the shrubberies into the park ; the noise the horse
made in taking off resembling the trampling on wood-pavement.
" Cuss it, but it's 'ard ! " exclaimed he, as the horse slid two or
three yards as he alighted on the frozen field.
George Cheek followed him ; and Multum-in-Parvo, taking the
bit deliberately between his teeth, just walked through the gate,
as if it had been made of paper.
" Ah, ye brute ! " groaned Mr. Sponge, in disgust, digging the
Latchfords into his sides, as if he intended to make them meet in
the middle. " Ah, ye brute ! " repeated he, giving him a hearty
cropper as he put up his head after trying to kick him off.
" Thank you ! " exclaimed Miss Glitters, cantering up ; adding,
" you cleared the way nicely for me."
Nicely he had cleared it for them all ; and the pent-up tide of
equestrianism now poured over the park like the flood of an irri-
gated water meadow. Such ponies ! such horses ! such hugging !
such kicking ! such scrambling ! and so little progress with
many !
The park being extensive — three hundred acres or more — there
was ample space for the aspiring ones to single themselves out ;
and as Lady Scattercash and Orlando sat in the pony phaeton, on
the rising ground by the keeper's house, they saw a dark-clad
horseman (George Cheek), Old Gingerbread Boots, as they called
Mr. Sponge, with Lucy Glitters alongside of him, gradually steal-
ma- away from the crowd, and creeping up to Mr. Watchorn, who
was sailing away with the hounds.
" What a scrimmage ! " exclaimed her ladyship, standing up
in the carriage, and eyeing the
Strange confusion in the vale below.
MB. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUE. 417
" There's Bob in his old purple," said she, eyeing her brother
hustling along; "and there's ' Fat ' in his new Moses and Son ;
and Bouncey iu poor Wax's coat ; and there's Harry all legs and
wings, as usual," added she, as her husband was seen flibberty-
gibbertying it along.
" And there's Lucy ; and where's Miss Howard, I wonder ? "
observed Orlando, straining his eyes after the scrambling field.
Nothing but the inspiriting aid of "churapine," and the hope
that the tiling would soon terminate, sustained Mr. Watchorn
under the infliction in which he so unexpectedly found himself;
for nothing would have tempted him to brave such a frost with
the burning scent of a game four-legged fox. The park being
spacious, and enclosed by a high plank paling, he hoped the fox
would have the manners to confine himself within it j and so long
as his threadings and windings favoured the supposition, our
huntsman bustled along, yelling and screaming in apparent ecstasy
at the top of his voice. The hounds, to be sure, wanted keeping
together, for Frantic as usual had shot ahead, while the gorged
pig-pailers could never extricate themselves from the ponies.
" F-o-o-o-r-r-a-r-d 1 f-o-o-o-r-r-a-r-d! f-o-o-o-r-r-a-r-d ! " elon-
gated Watchorn, rising in his stirrups, and looking back with a
grin at George Cheek, who was plying his weed with the whip,
exclaiming, " Ah, you confounded young warmint, I'll give you a
warmin' ! I'll teach you to jaw about 'untin' ! "
As he turned his head straight to look at his hounds, he was
shocked to see Frantic falling backwards from the first attempt
to leap the park-palings, and just as she gathered herself for a
second effort, Desperate, Chatterer, and Galloper, charged in line
and got over. Then came the general rush of the pack, attended
with the usual success — some over, some back, some a-top of others.
" Oh, the devil ! " exclaimed Watchorn, pulling up short in a
perfect agony of despair. " Oh, the devil ! " repeated he in a
lower tone, as Mr. Sponge approached.
" Where's there a gate ? " roared our friend, skating up.
" Gate ! there's never a gate within a mile, and that's locked,"
replied Watchorn, sulkily.
" Then here goes ! " replied Mr. Sponge, gathering the chestnut
together to give him an opportunity of purging himself of his
previous faux pas. " Here goes ! " repeated he, thrusting his
hard hat firmly on his head. Taking his horse back a few paces,
Mr. Sponge crammed him manfully at the palings, and got over
with a rap.
" Well done you ! " exclaimed Miss Glitters in delight ; adding
to Watchorn, " Now old Beardey, you go next."
Beardey was irresolute. He pretended to be anxious to get the
tail hounds over.
k a
418 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUE.
" Clear the way, then ! " exclaimed Miss Glitters, putting her
horse back, her bright eyes flashing as she spoke, She took him
back as far as Mr. Sponge had clone, touched him with the whip,
and in an instant she was high in the air, landing safely on the
far side.
" Hoo-ray ! " exclaimed Captains Quod and Outitfat, who now
came panting up.
" Now, Mr. Watchorn ! " cried Captain Seedeybuck ; adding,
" you're a huntsman ! "
" Yooioxev, Prosperous ! Yooi over, Buster ! " cheered Watchorn,
still pretending anxiety about his hounds.
" Let me have a shy," squeaked George Cheek, backing his
giraffe, as he had seen Mr. Sponge and Miss Glitters do.
George took his screw by the head, and, giving him a hearty
rib-roasting with his whip, run him full tilt at the pailings, and
carried away half a rood.
" Hoo-ray ! " cried the liberated field.
"/knew how it would be," exclaimed Mr. Watchorn, in well-
feigned disgust as he rode through the gap ; adding, " «??z-founded
young waggabone ! Deserves to be well chaste-tised for breakin'
people's palin's in that way — lettin' in all the rubbishin' tail."
The scene then changed. In lieu of the green, though hard,
sward of the undulating park, our friends now found themselves
on large frozen fallows, upon whose uneven surface the heaviest
horses made no impression, while the shuffling rats of ponies toiled
and floundered about, almost receding in their progress. Mr.
Sponge was just topping the fence out of the first one, and Miss
Glitters was gathering her horse to ride at it, as Watchorn and Co.
emerged from the park. Eounding the turnip-hill, beyond, the
leading hounds were racing with a breast high scent, followed by
the pack in long-drawn file.
" What a mess ! " said Watchorn to himself, shading the sun
from his eyes with his hand ; when, remembering his rdle, he
exclaimed, " Y-o-o-n-dev they go ! " as if in ecstasies at the sight.
Seeing a gate at the bottom of the field, he got his horse by the
head, and rattled him across the fallow, blowing his horn more in
hopes of stopping the pack than with a view of bringing up the
tail-hounds. He might have saved his breath, for the music of
the pack completely drowned the noise of the horn. " Dash it ! "
said he, thumping the broad end against his thigh ; " I wish I was
quietly back in my parlour. Hold up, horse I " roared he, as
Harkaway nearly came on his haunches in pulling up at the gate.
" I know who's not Cardinal Wiseman," continued he, stooping to
open it.
The gate was fast, and he had to alight and lift it off its hinges.
Just as he had done so, and had got it sufficiently open for a
MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUB. 419
horse to pass, George Cheek came up from behind, and slipped
through before him.
" Oh, you unrighteous young renegade ! Did ever mortal see
sich an uncivilised trick ? " roared Watchorn ; adding, as he
climbed on to his horse again, and went spluttering through the
frozen turnips after the offender, " You've no 'quaintance with
Lord John Manners, I think ! "
" Oh, dear ! — oh, dear ! " exclaimed he, as his horse nearly
came on his head, " but this is the mostpunishin' affair I ever was
in at. Puseyism's nothin' to it." And thereupon he indulged
in no end of anathemas at Slarkey for bringing the wrong fox.
" About time to take soundings, and cast anchor, isn't it ? "
gasped Captain Bouncey, toiling up red hot on his pulling horse
in a state of utter exhaustion, as Watchorn stood craneing and
looking at a rasper through which Mr. Sponge and Miss Glitters
had passed, without disturbing a twig.
" C — a — s — t anchor!" exclaimed "Watchorn, in a tone of
derision — "not this half hour yet, I hope! — not this/or/?/ minnits
yet, I hope ! — not this hoar and twenty minnits yet, I hope ! "
continued he, putting his horse irresolutely at the fence. The
horse blundered through it, barking Watchorn's nose with a
branch.
" 'Orel rot it, cut off my nose ! " exclaimed he, muffling it up in
his hand. " Cut off my nose clean by my face, I do believe," con-
tinued he, venturing to look into his hand for it. " Well," said he,
eyeing the slight stain of blood on his glove, " this will be a lesson
to me as long as I live. If ever I 'unt again in a frost, may I be
. Thank goodness ! they're chucked at last ! " exclaimed he,
as the music suddenly ceased, and Mr. Sponge and Miss Glitters
sat motionless together on their panting, smoking steeds.
Watchorn then stuck spurs to his horse, and being now on a
flat rushy pasture, with a bridle-gate into the field where the
hounds were casting, he hustled across, preparing his horn for a
blow as soon as he got there.
" Twang — twang — huang — twang,'" he went, riding up the
hedgerow in the contrary direction to what the hounds leant.
" Twang — twang — twang," he continued, inwardly congratulating
himself that the fox would never face the troop of urchins he saw
coming down with their guns.
" Hang him ! — he's never that way ! " observed Mr. Sponge,
sotto voce, to Miss Glitters. " He's never that way," repeated he,
seeing how Frantic flung to the right.
" Twang — twang — twang" went the horn, but the hounds
regarded it not.
" Do, Mr. Sponge, put the hounds to me ! " roared Mr. Watchorn,
dreading lest they might hit off the scent.
E e 2
420 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUB.
Mr. Sponge answered the appeal by turning his horse the way
the hounds were feathering, and giving them a slight cheer.
"'Orel rot it!" roared Watchorn, " do let 'em alone! that's a
fresh fox ! our's is over the 'ill," pointing towards Bonnyfield Hill.
" Hoop ! " hallooed Mr. Sponge, taking off his hat, as Frantic hit
off the scent to the right, and Galloper, and Melody, and all the
rest scored to cry.
"Oh, you confounded brown-bouted beggar!" exclaimed Mr.
Watchorn, returning his horn to its case, and eyeing Mr. Sponge
and Miss Glitters sailing away with the again breast-high-scent
pack. " Oh, you exorbitant usurer ! " continued he, gathering his
horse to skate alter them. "Well now, that's the most disgraceful
proceedin' I ever saw in the whole course of my life. Hang me, if
I'll stand such work ! Dash me, but I'll 'quaint the Queen ! — I'll
tell Sir George Grey ! I'll write to Mr. Walpole ! Fo-orrard !
fo-orrard I " hallooed he, as Bob Spangles and Bouncey popped
upon him unexpectedly from behind, exclaiming with well-feigned
glee, as he pointed to the streaming pack with his whip, " 'Ord
dash it, but we're in for a good thing ! "
Little Bouncey's horse was still yawning and star-gazing, and
Bouncey, being quite unequal to riding and well-nigh exhausted,
" downed " him against a rubbing-post in the middle of a field,
making a " cannon " with his own and his horse's head, and was
immediately the centre of attraction for the panting tail. Bouncey
got near a pint of sherry from among them before he recovered
from the shock. So anxious were they about him, that not one of
them thought of resuming the chase. Even the lagging whips
couldn't leave him. George Cheek was presently hors de combat in
a hedge, and Watchorn seeing him " see-sawing," exclaimed, as he
slipped through a gate,
" I'll send your mar to you, you young 'umbug."
Watchorn would gladly have stopped too, for the fumes of the
champagne were dead within him, and the riding was becoming
every minute more dangerous. He trotted on, hoping each jump
of bi'own boots would be the last, and inwardly wishing the wearer
at the devil. Thus he passed through a considerable extent of
country, over Harrowdale Lordship, or reputed Lordship, past
Roundington Tower, down Sloppyside Banks, and on to Cheeseing-
ton Green ; the severity of his affliction being alone mitigated by
the intervention of accommodating roads and lines of field gates.
These, however, Mr. Sponge generally declined, and went crashing
on, now over high places, now over low, just as they came in his
way, closely followed by the fair Lucy Glitters.
" Well, I never see'd sich a man as that ! " exclaimed Watchorn,
eyeing Mr. Sponge clearing a stiff flight of rails, with a gap near
at hand. " Nor wroman nouther !" added he, as Miss Glitters did
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 421
the like. " Well, I'm dashed if it arn'fc dangerous ! " continued
he, thumping his hand against his thick thigh, as the white nearly
slipped upon landing. " F-o-r-r-ard! for-rard! hoop ! " screeched
he, as he saw Miss Glitters looking back to see where he was.
F-o-r-rard ! for-rard /" repeated he; adding, in apparent
delight, " My eyes, but we're in for a stinger ! Hold up, horse I "
roared he, as his horse now went starring up to the knees through
a long sheet of ice, squirting the clayey water into his rider's face.
" Hold up ! " repeated he ; adding, " I'm dashed if one mightn't as
well be crashin' over the Christial Palace as ridin' over a country
froze in this way ! 'Ord rot it, how cold it is ! " continued he,
blowing on his finger-ends ; " I declare my 'ands are quite numb.
Well done, old brown bouts ! " exclaimed he, as a crash on the right
attracted his attention ; "well done, old brown bouts ! — broke every
bar i' the gate ! " adding, " but I'll let Mr. Buckram know the way
his beautiful osses are 'bused. Well," continued he, after along skate
down the grassy side of Ditchburn Lane, " there's no fun in this —
none whatever. Who the deuce would be a huntsman that could be
anything else ? Dash it ! I'd rayther be a hosier — I'd rayther be
a 'atter — I'd rayther be an undertaker — I'd rayther be a Pusseyite
parson — I'd rayther be a pig-jobber — I'd rayther be a besom-
maker — I'd rayther be a dog's-meat man — I'd rayther be a cat's-
meat man — I'd rayther go about a sellin' of chickweed and sparrow-
grass ! " added he, as his horse nearly slipped up on his haunches.
" Thank 'eavens there's relief at last ! " exclaimed he, as on
rising Gimmerhog Hill he saw Farmer Saintfoin's southdowns
wheeling and clustering, indicative of the fox having passed;
" thank 'eavens, there's relief at last ! " repeated he, reining up his
horse to see the hounds charge them.
Mr. Sponge and Miss Glitters were now in the bottom below,
fighting their way across a broad mill-course with a very stiff fence
on the taking-off side.
"Hold up!" roared Mr. Sponge, as having bored a hole through
the fence, he found himself on the margin of the water-race. The
horse did hold up, and landed him — not without a scramble — on
the far side. " Run him at it, Lucy ! " exclaimed Mr. Sponge,
turning his horse half round to his fair companion. " Run him
at it, Lucy ! " repeated he ; and Lucy, fortunately hitting the gap,
skimmed o'er the water like a swallow on a summer's eye.
" Well done ! you're a trump ! " exclaimed Mr. Sponge, standing
in his stirrups, and holding on by the mane as his horse rose the
opposing hill.
He just got up in time to save the muttons ; another second
and the hounds would have been into them. Holding up his hand
to beckon Lucy to stop, he sat eyeing them intently. Many of
them had their heads up, and not a few were casting sheeps' eyes
422 MB. SPONGE'S SPOBTING TOUB.
at the sheep. Some few of the line hunters were persevering with
the scent over the greasy ground. It was a critical moment.
They cast to the right, then to the left, and again took a wider
sweep in advance, returning however towards the sheep, as if they
thought them the best spec after all.
" Put 'em to me," said Mr. Sponge, giving Miss Glitters his
whip ; "put 'em to me ! " said he, hallooing, " For-geot, hounds !
— 1/or-geot ! " — which, being interpreted, means, " here again,
hounds ! — here again ! "
" Oh, the concited beggar ! " exclaimed Mr. TVatchorn to him-
self, as, disappointed of his finish, he sat feeling his nose, mopping
his face, and watching the proceedings. " Oh, the concited
beggar ! " repeated he ; adding, "old 'hogany bouts is absolutely
a goin' to kest them."
Cast them, however, he did, proceeding very cautiously in the
direction the hounds seemed to lean. They were on a piece of cold
scenting ground, across which they could hardly own the scent.
"Don't hurry 'em!" cried Mr. Sponge to Miss Glitters, who
was acting whipper-in with rather unnecessary vigour.
As they got under the lee of the hedge, the scent improved a
little, and, from an occasional feathering stern, a hound or two in-
dulged in a whimper, until at length they fairly broke out in a cry.
" I'll lose a shoe," said TVatchorn to himself, looking first at the
formidable leap before him, and then to see if there was any one
coming up behind. " I'll lose a shoe," said he. " No notion of
lippin' of a navigable river — a downright arm of the sea," added
he, getting off.
" Foricarcl ! forward ! '" screeched Mr. Sponge, capping the
hounds on, when away they went, heads up and sterns down as
before.
" Ay, for-rard ! for-rard ! " mimicked Mr. Watchorn ; adding,
" you're for-rard enough, at all events."
After running about three-quarters of a mile at best pace, Mr.
Sponge viewed the fox crossing a large grass field with all the
steam up he could raise, a few hundred yards ahead of the pack,
who Avcrc streaming along most beautifully, not viewing, but
gradually gaining upon him. At last they broke from scent to
view, and presently rolled him over and over among them.
" AVho-iioop ! " screamed Mr. Sponge, throwing himself off his
horse and rushing in amongst them. "TVho-hoop ! " repented he,
still louder, holding the fox up in grim death above the baying
pack.
" WJw-hoop ! '" exclaimed Miss Glitters, reining up in delight
alongside the chestnut. " Who-hoop ! '" repeated she, diving into the
saddle-pocket for her lace-fringed handkerchief.
" Throw me my whip ! " cried Mr. Sponge, repelling the attacks
MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 423
of the hounds from behind with his heels. Having got it, he threw
the fox on the ground, and clearing a circle, he off with his brush
in an instant. " Tear him and eat him ! " cried he, as the pack
broke in on the carcass. " Tear him and eat him ! " repeated he, as
ho made his way up to Miss Glitters with the brush, exclaiming,
" We'll put this in your hat, alongside the cock's feathers."
The fair lady leant towards him, and as he adjusted it becomingly
in her hat, looking at her bewitching eyes, her lovely face, and
feeling the sweet fragrance of her breath, a something shot through
Mr. Sponge's pull-devil, pull-baker coat, his corduroy waistcoat,
his Eureka shirt, Angola vest, and penetrated the very cockles of
his heart. He gave her such a series of smacking kisses as startled
her horse and astonished a poacher who happened to be hid in
the adjoining hedge.
Sponge was never so happy in his life. He could have stood
on his head, or been guilty of any sort of extravagance, short of
wasting his money. Oh, he was happy ! Oh, he was joyous ! He
was intoxicated with pleasure. Ashe eyed his angelic charmer, her
lustrous eyes, her glowing cheeks, her pearly teeth, the bewitching
fulness of her elegant iournure, and thought of the masterly way
she rode the run — above all, of the dashing style in which she
charged the mill-race — he felt a something quite different to any-
thing he had experienced with any of the buxom widows or lacka-
daisical misses whom he could just love or not, according to cir-
cumstances, among whom his previous experience had lain. Miss
Glitters, he knew, had nothing, and yet he felt he could not do
without her ; the puzzlement of his mind was, how the deuce
they should manage matters — " make tongue and buckle meet," as
he elegantly phrased it.
It is pleasant to hear a bachelor's pros and cons on the subject
of matrimony ; how the difficulties of the gentleman out of love
vanish or change into advantages with the one in — " Oh, I would
never think of marrying without a couple of thousand a year at the
very least!" exclaims young Fastly. "/can't do without four
hunters and a hack, I can't do without a valet. I can't do
without a brougham. / must belong to half-a-dozen clubs. Fll
not marry any woman who can't keep me comfortable — bachelors
can live upon nothing — bachelors are welcome everywhere — very
different thing with a wife. Frightful things milliners' bills — fifty
guineas for a dress, twenty for a bonnet — ladies' maids are the very
devil — never satisfied — far worse to please than their mistresses."
And between the whiffs of a cigar he hums the old saw,
" Needles and pins, needles and pins,
When a man marries his sorrow begins."
Now take him on the other tack — Fast is smitten.
424 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
" 'Orel hang it ! a married man can live on very little," solilo-
quises our friend. A nice lovely creature to keep one at home.
Hunting's all humbug ; it's only the flash of the thing that makes
one follow it. Then the danger far more than counterbalances
the pleasure. Awful places one has to ride over, to be sure, or
submit to be called ' slow.' Horrible thing to set up for a horse-
man, and then have to ride to maintain one's reputation. Will
be thankful to give it up altogether. The bays will make capital
carriage-horses, and one can often pick up a second-hand carriage
as good as new. Shall save no end of money by not having to
put ' B ' to my name in the assessed tax-paper. One club's as
good as a dozen — will give up the Polyanthus and the Sunflower,
and the Refuse and the Rag. Ladies' dresses are cheap enough.
Saw a beautiful gown t'other day for a guinea. Will start Master
Bergamotte. Does nothing for his wages ; will scarce clean my
boots. Can get a chap for half what I give him, who'll do double
the work. Will make Beans into coachman. What a convenience
to have one's wife's maid to sew on one's buttons, and keep one's
toes in one's stocking-feet ! Declare I lose half my things at the
washing for want of marking. Hanged if I won't marry and be
respectable — marriage is an honourable state ! " And thereupon
Tom grows a couple of inches taller in his own conceit.
Though Mr. Sponge's thoughts did not travel in quite such a
luxurious first-class train as the foregoing, he, Mr. Sponge, being
more of a two-shirts-and-a-dicky sort of man, yet still the future
ways and means weighed upon his mind, and calmed the transports
of his present joy. Lucy was an angel ! about that there was no
dispute. He would make her Mrs. Sponge at all events. Touring
about was very expensive. He could only counterbalance the
extravagance of inns by the rigid rule of giving nothing to servants
at private houses. He thought a nice airy lodging in the suburbs
of London would answer every purpose, while his accurate know-
ledge of cab-fares would enable Lucy to continue her engagement
at the Royal Amphitheatre without incurring the serious over-
charges the inexperienced are exposed to. " Where one can dine,
two can dine," mused Mr. Sponge ; " and I make no doubt we'll
manage matters somehow."
" Twopence for your thoughts ! " cried Lucy, trotting up, and
touching him gently on the back with her light silver-mounted
riding-whip. " Twopence for your thoughts ! " repeated she, as
Mr. Sponge sauntered leisurely along, regardless of the bitter cold,
followed by such of the hounds as chose to accompany him.
" Ah ! " replied he, brightening up ; " I was just thinking what
a deuced good run we'd had."
" Indeed ! " pouted the fair lady.
" No, my darling ; I was thinking what a very pretty girl you
MB. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUli. 425
arc," rejoined he, sidling his horse up, and encircling her neat
waist with his arm.
A sweet smile dimpled her plump checks, and chased the
recollection of the former answer away.
It would not be pretty — indeed, we could not pretend to give
even the outline of the conversation that followed. It was carried on
in such broken and disjointed sentences, eyes and squeezes doing so
much more work than words, that even a reporter would have had
to draw largely upon his imagination for the substance. Suffice it to
say, that though the thermometer was below zero, they never
moved out of a foot's pace ; the very hounds growing tired of the
trail, and slinking off one by one as opportunity occurred.
A dazzling sun was going down with a blood-red glare, and the
partially softened ground was fast resuming its fretwork of frost,
as our hero and heroine were seen sauntering up the western
avenue to Nonsuch House, as slowly and quietly as if it had been
the hottest evening in summer.
" Here's old Coppertops ! " exclaimed Captain Seedeybuck, as,
turning round in the billiard-room to chalk his cue, he espied them
crawling along. " And Lucy ! " added he, as he stood watching
them.
" How slowly they come ! " observed Bob Spangles, going to
the window.
"Must have tired their horses," suggested Captain Quod.
" Just the sort of mnn to tire a horse," rejoined Bob Spangles.
" Hate that Sponge," observed Captain Cutitfat.
" So do I," replied Captain Quod.
" Well, never mind the beggar ! It's you to play ! " exclaimed
Bob Spangles to Captain Seedeybuck.
But Lady Scattercash, who was observing our friends from her
boudoir window, saw with a woman's eye that there was something
more than a mere case of tired horses ; and, tripping down stairs
she arrived at the front door just as the fair Lucy dropped
smilingly from her horse into Mr. Sponge's extended armr*.
Hurrying up into the boudoir, Lucy gave her ladyship one of Mr.
Sponge's modified kisses, revealing the truth more eloquently than
words could convey.
" Oh," Lady Scattercash was " so glad ! " " so delighted ! " " so
charmed ! "
Mr. Sponge was such a once man, and so rich. She was sure he
was rich — couldn't hunt if he wasn't. Would advise Lucy to
have a good settlement, in case he broke his neck. And pin-
money ! pin-money was most useful ; no husband ever let his
wife have enough money. Must forget all about Harry Dacre
and Charley Brown, and the swell in the Blues. Must be prudent
for the future. Mr. Sponge would never know anything of the
426 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
past. Tlieu she reverted to the interesting- subject of settlements.
" What had Mr. Sponge got, and what would he do ? " This Lucy
couldn't tell. " What ! hadn't he told her where his estates
were?"— "No." "Well, was his dad dead?" This Lucy
didn't know either. They had got no further than the tender
prop. " Ah ! well ; would get it all out of him by degrees." And
with the reiteration of her " so glads," and the repayment of the
kiss Lucy had advanced, her ladyship advised her to get off her
habit and make herself comfortable, while she ran down stairs to
communicate the astonishing intelligence to the party below.
" What d'ye think ? " exclaimed she, bursting into the billiard-
room, where the party were still engaged in a game at pool, all our
sportsmen, except Captain Cutitfat, who still sported his new
Moses and Son's scarlet, having divested themselves of their
hunting-gear — " What d'ye think ? " exclaimed she, darting into
the middle of them.
" That Bob don't cannon ? " observed Captain Bouncey from
below the bandage that encircled his broken head, nodding towards
Bob Spangles, who was just going to make a stroke.
" That Wax is out of limbo ? " suggested Captain Seedeybuck,
in the same breath.
" No. Guess again ! " exclaimed Lady Scattercash, rubbing her
hands in high glee.
" That the Pope's got a son ? " observed Captain Quod.
" No. Guess again ! " exclaimed her ladyship, laughing.
" I give it up," replied Captain Bouncey.
" So do I," added Captain Seedeybuck.
" That Mr. Sponge is going to be married" enunciated her
ladyship, slowly and emphatically, waving her arms.
" Ho-o-ray ! Only think of that ! " exclaimed Captain Quod.
" Old 'hogany-tops goin' to be spliced ! "
" Did you ever ? " asked Bob Spangles.
" No, I never" replied Captain Bouncey.
"He should be called Spooney Sponge, not Soapey Sponge,"
observed Captain Seedeybuck.
"Well, but to whom ? " asked Captain Bouncey.
" Ah, to whom, indeed ! That's the question," rejoined her
ladyship archly.
'• I know," observed Bob Spangles.
" No, you don't."
" Yes, I do."
" Who is it, then ? " demanded her ladyship.
" Lucy Glitters, to be sure," replied Bob, who hadn't had his
stare out of the billiard-room window for nothing.
" Pity her," observed Bouncey, sprawling along the billiard-table
to play for a cannon.
2lH. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 427
" "Why ? " asked Lady Scattercash.
" Eeg'lav scamp," replied Bouncey, vexed at missing his stroke.
" Dare say you know nothing about him," snapped her ladyship
" Don't I ? " replied Bouncey, complacently ; adding, " that's
all you know."
" He'll whop her, to a certainty," observed Scedeybuck.
" What makes you think that ? " asked her ladyship.
" Oh — ha — hem — haw — why, because he whopped his poor horse
— whopped him over the ears. "Whop his horse, whop his wife ;
whop his wife, whop his horse. Reg'lar Rule-of-three sum."
" Make her a bad husband, I dare say," observed Bob Spangles,
who was rather smitten with Lucy himself.
" Never mind ; a bad husband's a deal better than none, Bob,"
replied Lady Scattercash, determined not to be put out of conceit
of her man.
" He, he, he ! — haw, haw, haiv 1 — ho, ho, ho ! Well done you ! "
laughed several.
" She'll have to keep him," observed Captain Cutitfat, whose
turn it now was to play.
" What makes you think that ? " asked Lady Scattercash,
coming again to the charge.
" He has nothing," replied Fat, coolly.
" 'Deed, but he has — a very good property, too," replied her
ladyship.
" In Jirshiro, I should think," rejoined Fat.
" No, in Englandshire," retorted her ladyship ; " and great
expectations from an uncle," added she.
" Ah — he looks like a man to be on good terms with his uncle,"
sneered Captain Bouncey.
"Make no doubt he pays him many a visit," observed
Seedeybuck.
" Indeed ! that's all you know," snapped Lady Scattercash.
" It's not all I know," replied Seedeybuck.
" Well, then, what else do you know ? " asked she.
" I know he has nothing," replied Seedey.
" How do you know it ? "
" I faioiv" said Seedey, with an emphasis, now settling to his
stroke.
" Well, never mind," retorted her ladyship j if he has nothing
she has nothing, and nothing can be nicer."
So saying, she hurried out of the room.
428
MR. SPONGE'S SPOUTING TOUR.
SPONGE "A CAPTIVE.
CHAPTER LVIII.
MR. SPONGE AT HOME.
PONGE was most warmly
congratulated by Sir
Harry and all the assem-
bled captains, who in-
wardly hoped his mar-
riage would have the
effect of " snuffing him
out," as they said, and
they had a most glorious
jollification on the
strength of it. They
drank Lucy's and his
health nine times over,
with nine times nine each
time. The consequence
was, that the footmen and shutter were in earlier requisition
than usual to carry them to their respective apartments. Sponge's
head throbbed a good deal the next morning ; nor was the pulsa-
tion abated by the recollection of his matrimonial engagement,
and his total inability to keep the angel who had ridden herself
into his affections. However, like all untried men, he was strong
in the confidence of his own ability, and the sight of his smiling
charmer chased away all prudential considerations as quickly as
they arose. He made no doubt there Avould something turn up.
Meanwhile, he was in good quarters, and Lady Scattercash
having warmly espoused his cause, he assumed a considerable
standing in the establishment. Old Beardey having ventured to
complain of his interference in the kennel, my laxly curtly told
him he might " make himself scarce if he liked ; " a step that
Beai'dey was quite ready to take, having heard of a desirable
public-house at Newington Butts, provided Sir Harry paid him
his wages. This not being quite convenient, Sir Harry gave him
an order on " Cabbage and Co." for three suits of clothes, and
acquiesced in his taking a massive silver soup-tureen, on which,
beneath the many-quartered Scattercash arms, Mr. Watch orn
placed an inscription, stating that it was presented to him by Sir
Harry Scattercash, Baronet, and the noblemen and gentlemen of
his hunt, in admiration of his talents as a huntsman and his
character as a man.
MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 4£9
Mr. Sponge then became still more afc home. It was very soon
" my hounds," and " my horses," and " my whips ; " and he wrote
to Jawleyford, and Puffington, and Guano, and Lumpleg, and
Washball, and Spraggon, offering to make meets to suit their
convenience, and even to mount them if required. His "Mogg"
was quite neglected in favour of Lucy ; and it says much for the
influence of female charms that, before they had been engaged a
fortnight, he, who had been a perfect oracle in cab-fares, would
have been puzzled to tell the most ordinary fare on the most
frequented route. He had forgotten all about them. Nevertheless,
Lucy and he went out hunting as often as they could raise hounds,
and when they had a good run and killed, he saluted her ; and
when they didn't kill, why — he just did the same. He headed
and tailed the stringing pack, drafted the skirters and babblers
(which he sent to Lord Scamperdale, with his compliments), and
presently had the uneven kennel in something like shape.
Nor was this the only way in which he made himself useful, for
Nonsuch House being now supported almost entirely by voluntary
contributions, — that is to say, by the gullibility of tradesmen, —
his street and shop knowledge was valuable in determining who to
" do." With the Post-office Directory and Mr. Sponge at his
elbow, Mr. Bottleends, the butler — "delirius tremendous," as
Bottleends called it, having quite incapacitated Sir Harry — wrote
off for champagne from this man, sherry from that, turtle from a
third, turbot from a fourth, tea from a fifth, truffles from a sixth,
wax-lights from one, sperm from another ; and down came the
things with such alacrity, such thanks for the past and hopes for
the future, as we poor devils of the untitled world are quite
unacquainted with. Nay, not content with giving him the goods,
many of the poor demented creatures actually paraded their
folly at their doors in new deal packing-cases, flourishingly
directed " To Sir Harry Scattercasii, Bart., Nonsuch
House, &c. By Express Train" In some cases they even
paid the carriage.
There is no saying what advantages railway communication
may confer upon a country. But for the Granddiddle Junction,
shire never would have had a steeple-chase — an " Aris-
tocratic," at least — for it is observable that the more snobbish a
thing is, the more certain they are to call it aristocratic. When
it is too bad for anything, they call it " Grand." Well, as we said
before, but for the Granddiddle Junction, shire would never
have had a " Grand Aristocratic Steeple-Chase." A few friends
or farmers might have got up a quiet thing among themselves,
but it would never have seen a regular trade transaction, with its
swell-mob, sham captains, and all the paraphernalia of odd laying,
430 MB. SPONGE'S SPOBTING TOUB.
" secret tips," and market rigging. Who will deny the benefit
that must accrue to any locality by the infusion of all the loose
fish of the kingdom ?
Formerly the prize-fights were the perquisite of the publicans.
They it was who arranged for Shaggy Tom to pound Hairy Billy's
nob upon So-and-so's land, the preference being given to the
locality that subscribed the most money to the fight. Since the
decline of " the ring," steeple-chasing, and that still smaller grade
of gambling — coursing, have come to their aid. Nine-tenths of
the steeple-chases and coursing-matches are got up by innkeepers,
for the good of their houses. Some of the town publicans, indeed,
seem to think that the country was just made for their matches to
come off in, and scarcely condescend to ask the leave of the land-
owners. We saw an advertisement the other day, where a low
publican, in a manufacturing town, assured the subscribers to his
coursing-club that he would take care to select open ground, with
" plenty of stout hares," as if all the estates in the neighbourhood
were at his command. Another advertised a steeple-chase in the
centre of a good hunting country — "amateur and gentleman
riders " — with a half-crown ordinary at the end ! Fancy the
respectability of a steeple-chase, with a half-crown ordinary at the
end !
Our " Aristocratic " was got up on the good-of-the-house
principle. Whatever benefit the Granddiddle Junction conferred
upon the country at large, it had a very prejudicial effect upon the
Old Duke of Cumberland Hotel and Posting-House, which it left,
high and dry, at an angle, sufficiently near to be tantalised by the
whirr and the whistle of the trains, and yet too far off to be
benefited by the parties they brought. This once well-accustomed
hostelry was kept by one Mr. Viney, a former butler in the
Scattercash family, and who still retained the usual "old-and-
faithful-servant " entree of Nonsuch House, having his beefsteak
and bottle of wine in the steward's room whenever he chose to
call. Viney had done good at the Old Duke of Cumberland ; and
no one, seeing him " full fig," would recognise, in the solemn
grandeur of his stately person, the dirty knife-boy who had filled
the place now occupied by the still dirtier Slarkey. But the days
of road travelling departed, and Viney, who, beneath the Grecian-
columned portico of his country-house-looking hotel, modulated
the ovations of his cauliflower head to every description of
traveller — from the lordly occupant of the barouche-and-four, down
to the humble sitter in a gig — was cut off by one fell swoop from
all further traffic. He was extinguished like a gaslight, and the
pipe was laid on a fresh line.
Fortunately Mr. Viney was pretty warm ; he had done pretty
well ; and having enjoyed the intimacy of the great " Jeames " of
MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 431
railway times, had got a hint not to engage the hotel beyond the
opening of the line. Consequently, he now had the great house for
a mere nothing until such times as the owner could convert it into
that last refuge for deserted houses — an academy, or a " young
ladies' seminary." Mr. Viney now, having plenty of leisure,
frequently drove his "missis" (once a lady's maid in a quality
family) up to Nonsuch House, as well for the sake of the airing —
for the road was pleasant and picturesque — as to see if he could
get the "little trifle" Sir Harry owed him for post-horses, bottles
of soda-water, and such trifles as country gentlemen run up scores
for at their posting-houses, — scores that seldom get smaller by
standing. In these excursions Mr. Viney made the acquaintance
of Mr. Watchorn ; and a huntsman being a character with whom
even the landlord of an inn — wre beg pardon, hotel and posting-
house — may associate without degradation, Viney and Watchorn
became intimate. Watchorn sympathised with Viney, and never
failed to take a glass in passing, either at exercise or out hunting,
to deplore that such a nice-looking house, so " near the station,
too," should be ruined as an inn. It was after a more than usual
libation that Watchorn, trotting merrily along with the hounds,
having accomplished three blank days in succession, asked himself,
as he looked upon the surrounding vale from the rising ground of
Hammercock Hill, with the cream-coloured station and rose-
coloured hotel peeping through the trees, whether something
might not be done to give the latter a lift. At first he thought of
a pigeon match — a sweepstake open to all England — fifty members
say, at two pound ten each, seven pigeons, seven sparrows,
twenty-one yards rise, two ounces of shot, and so on. But then,
again, he thought there would be a difficulty in getting guns.
A coursing-match — how would that do? Answer: "No hares."
The farmers had made such an outcry about the game, that the
landowners had shot them all off, and now the farmers were
grumbling that they couldn't get a course.
" Dash my buttons ! " exclaimed Watchorn ; " it would be the
very thing for a steeple-chase ! There's old Puff's hounds, and
old Scamp's hounds, and these hounds," looking down on the ill-
sorted lot around him ; " and the deuce is in it if we couldn't give
the thing such a start as would bring down the lads of the
'village,' and a vast amount of good business might be done.
I'm dashed if it isn't the very country for a steeple-chase ! "
continued Watchorn, casting his eye over Cloverley Park, round
the enclosure of Langworth Grange, and up the rising ground of
Lark Lodge.
The more Watchorn thought of it, the more he was satisfied of
its feasibility, and he trotted over, the next day, to the Old Duke
of Cumberland, to see his friend on the subject. Viney, like most
432 MR. SPONGE'S SPOETING TOUR.
victuallers, was more given to games of skill — billiards, shuttlecock,
skittles, dominoes, and so on — than to the rude out-of-door
chances of flood and field, and at first he doubted his ability to
grapple with the details ; but on Mr. Watchorn's assurance that
lie would keep him straight, he gave Mrs. Yiney a key, desiring
her to go into the inner cellar, and bring out a bottle of the green
seal. This was ninety-shilling sherry — very good stuff to take ;
and, by the time they got into the second bottle, they had got
into the middle of the scheme too. Viney was cautious and
thoughtful. He had a high opinion of Watchorn's sagacity, and
so long as Watchorn confined himself to weights, and stakes, and
forfeits, and so on, he was content to leave himself in the hands
of the huntsman ; but when Watchorn came to talk of "stewards,"
putting this person and that together, Viney's experience came in
aid. Viney knew a good deal. He had not stood twisting a
napkin negligently before a plate-loaded sideboard without picking
up a good many waifs and strays in the shape of those ins and
outs, those likings and dislikings, those hatreds and jealousies, that
foolish people let fall so freely before servants, as if for all the
world the servants were sideboards themselves ; and he had kept
up his stock of service-gained knowledge by a liberal, though not
a dignity-compromising intercourse — for there is no greater
aristocrat than your out-of-livcry servant — among the upper
servants of all the families in the neighbourhood, so that he knew
to a nicety who would pull together and who wouldn't, whose
name it would not do to mention to this person, and who it would
not do to apply to before that.
Neither Watchorn nor Viney being sportsmen, they thought they
had nothing to do but apply to two friends who were ; and after
thinking over who hunted in couples, they were unfortunate
enough "to select our Flat Hat friends, Fyle and Fossick. Fyle was
indignant beyond measure at being asked to be steward to a
steeple-chase, and thrust the application into the fire ; while
Fossick just wrote below, " I'll see you hanged first," and sent it
back without putting even a fresh head on the envelope. Nothing
daunted, however, they returned to the charge, anci without
troubling the reader with unnecessary detail, we think it will be
generally admitted that they at length made an excellent selection
in Mr. Puffingcon, Guano, and Tom Washball.
Fortune favoured them also in getting a locality to run in, for
Timothy Scourgefield, of Broom Hill, whose farm commanded a
good circular three miles of country, with every variety of obstacle,
having thrown up his lease for a thirty-per-cent. reduction — a giving
up that had been most unhandsomely accepted by his landlord —
Timothy was most anxious to pay him off by doing every
conceivable injury to the farm, than which nothing can be more
MB. SPONGE'S SFOBTING TOUR. 433
promising than having a steeple-chase run over it. Scourgefiekl,
therefore, readily agreed to let Viney and AVatchorn do whatever
they liked, on condition that he received entrance-money at the
gate.
The name occupied their attention some time, for it did not
begin as the " Aristocratic." The " Great National," the " Grand
Naval and Military," the "Sportsman," the " Talli-ho," the "Out-
and-Outer," the " Swell," were all considered and canvassed, and
its being called the "Aristocratic" at length turned upon whether
they got Lord Scamperdale to subscribe or not. This was accom-
plished by a differential call by Mr. Yiney upon Mr. Spraggon,
with a little bill for three pound odd, which he presented, with the
most urgent request that Jack wouldn't think of it then — any
time that was most convenient to Mr. Spraggon — and then the
introduction of the neatly-headed sheet-list. It was lucky that
Viney was so easily satisfied, for poor Jack had only thirty shillings,
of which he owed his washerwoman eight, and he was very glad to
stuff Viney's bill into his stunner jacket-pocket, and apply himself
exclusively to the contemplated steeple-chase.
Like most of us, Jack had no objection to make a little money ;
and as he squinted his frightful eyes inside out at the paper, he
thought over what horses they had in the stable that were like the
thing ; and then he sounded Viney as to whether he would put him
one up for nothing, if he could induce his lordship to send. This,
of course, Viney readily assented to, and again requesting Jack
not to ihinlc of his little bill till it was perfectly convenient to him
— a favour that Jack was pretty sure to accord him — Mr. Viney
took his departure, Jack undertaking to write him the result. The
next day's post brought Viney the document — unpaid, of course —
with a great " Scamperdale " scrawled across the top; and forth-
with it was decided that the steeple-chase should be called the
" Grand Aristocratic." Other names quickly followed, and it soon
assumed an importance. Advertisements appeared in all the sport-
ing and would-be sporting papers, headed with the imposing names
of the stewards, secretary, and clerk of the course, Mr. Viney. The
" Grand Aristocratic Stakes," of 20 sovs. each, half-forfeit, and 51.
only if declared, &c. The winner to give two dozen of champagne
to the ordinary, and the second horse to save his stake. Gentle-
men riders (titled ones to be allowed 3 lbs.). Over about three
miles of fine hunting country, under the usual steeple-chase
conditions.
Then the game of the " Peeping Toms," and " Sly Sams," and
"Infallible Joes," and " AVide-awake Jems," with their tips and
distribution of prints began ; Tom counselling his numerous and
daily increasing clients to get well on to No. 9, Sardanapalus (the
Bart., as Watchorn called him), while "Infallible Joe" recom-
434
MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
mended his friends and patrons to be sweet on No. G (Hercules),
and. "Wide-awake Jem" was all for something else. A gentleman
who took the trouble of getting tips from half a dozen of them,
found that no two of them agreed in any particular. What
information to make books upon !
" But what good," as our excellent friend Thackeray eloquently
asks, "ever came out of, or went into, a betting book? If I could
be Caliph Omar for a week," says he, " I would pitch every one
of those despicable manuscripts into the flames ; from my-lord's,
who is ' in ' with Jack Snaffle's stable, and is overreaching worse-
informed rogues, and swindling green-horns, down to Sam's, the
butcher's boy, who books eighteen-penny odds in the tap-room,
and stands to win five-and-twenty bob." We say ditto to that, and
are not sure that we wouldn't hang a " leg " or a " list " man or
two into the bargain.
Watchorn had a prophet of his own, one Enoch Wriggle, who,
having tried his hand unsuccessfully first at tailoring, next as an
accountant, then in the watercress, afterwards in the buy " 'at-box,
bonnet-box," and lastly in the stale lobster and periwinkle line, had
set up as an oracle on turf matters, forwarding the most accurate
and infallible information to flats in exchange for half-crowns,
heading his advertisements, " If it be a sin to covet honour, I am
the most offending soul alive ! " Enoch did a considerable stroke
of business, and couched his advice in such dubious terms, as
generally to be able to claim a victory whichever way the thing
went. So the " offending soul " prospered ; and from scarcely
having shoes to his feet, he very soon set up a gig.
VOLUNTARY COXTRIBD1 JON.S.
MR. SFOXGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
405
VINEY AMD MB. WATCHORN GETTING UP
< ; I : A ND ARISTOCRATIC."
CHAPTER LTX.
HOW THE GRAND ARISTOCRATIC CAME OFF.
STEEPLE-
CHASES are
Sen e r a 1 1 y
crude, ill-ar-
ranged things.
Few sports-
men will act
as stewards a
second time ;
while the vic-
tim to the po-
pular delusion
of patronising
our "national
sports " con-
siders — like
g e n 1 1 e m e n
who have served the office of sheriff, or churchwarden — that once
in a lifetime is enough ; hence, there is always the air of amateur
actorship ahout them. There is always something wanting or for-
gotten. Either they forget the ropes, or they forget the scales, or
they forget the weights, or they forget the bell, or — more commonly
still — some of the parties forget themselves. Farmers, too, are
easily satisfied with the benefits of an irresponsible mob careering
over their farms, even though some of them are attired in the mis-
cellaneous garb of hunting and racing costume. Indeed, it is just
this mixture of two sports that spoils both ; steeple-chasing being
neither hunting nor racing. It has not the wild excitement of the
one, nor the accurate calculating qualities of the other. The very
horses have a peculiar air about them — neither hunters nor hacks,
nor yet exactly race-horses. Some of them, doubtless, are fine,
good-looking, well-conditioned animals ; but the majority are lean,
lathy, sunken-eyed, woe-begone, iron-marked, desperately-abused
brutes, lacking all the lively energy that characterises the move-
ments of the up-to-the-mark hunter. In the early days of steeple-
chasing a popular fiction existed that the horses were, hunters ;
and grooms and fellows used to come nicking and grinning up to
masters of hounds at checks and critical times, requesting them
to note that they were out, in order to ask for certificates of the
horses having been "regularly hunted," — a species of regularity than.
F F 2
43G MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
which nothing could he more irregular. That nuisance, thank
goodness, is abated. A steeple-chaser now generally stands on his
own merits ; a change for which sportsmen may be thankful.
But to our story.
The whole country was in a commotion about this " Aristo-
cratic." The unsophisticated looked upon it as a grand reunion
of the aristocracy ; and smart bonnets and cloaks, and jackets and
parasols were ordered with the liberality incident to a distant view of
Christinas. As Viney sipped his sherry-cobler of an evening, he
laughed at the idea of a son-of-a-day labourer like himself raising-
such a dust. Letters came pouring in to the clerk of the course
from all quarters ; some asking about beds ; some about break-
fasts ; some about stakes ; some about stables ; some about this
thing, some about that. Every room in the Old Duke of Cumber-
land was speedily bespoke. Post-horses rose in price, and Dobbin
and Sniiler, and Jumper and Cappy, and Jessy and Tumbler were
jobbed from the neighbouring farmers, and converted for the
occasion into posters. At last came the great and important day
— day big with the fate of thousands of pounds ; for the betting
list vermin had been plying their trade briskly throughout the
kingdom, and all sorts of rumours had been raised relative to the
qualities and condition of the horses.
Who doesn't know the chilling feel of an English spring, or
rather of a day at the turn of the year before there is any spring ?
Our gala-day was a perfect specimen of the order — a white frost
succeeded by a bright sun, with an east wind, warming one side of
the face and starving the other. It was neither a day for fishing
nor hunting, nor coursing, nor anything but farming. The
country, save where there were a few lingering patches of turnips,
was all one dingy drab, with abundant scalds on the undrained
fallows. The grass was more like hemp than anything else. The
very rushes were yellow and sickly.
Long before mid-day the whole country was in commotion.
The same sort of people commingled that one would expect to see
if there was a balloon to go up, and a man to go down, or be hung
at the same place. Fine ladies in all the colours of the rainbow ;
and swarthy, beady-eyed dames, with their stalwart, big-calved,
basket-carrying comrades ; genteel young people from behind the
counter ; Dandy Candy merchants from behind the hedge ;
rough-coated dandies with their silver-mounted whips ; and
Shaggyford roughs, in their baggy, poacher-like coats, and formid-
able clubs ; carriages and four, and carriages and pairs ; and gigs
and dog-carts, and Whitechapels, and Newport Pagnels, and long-
carts, and short carts, and donkey carts, converged from all
quarters upon the point of attraction at Broom Hill.
If fanner Scourgefield had made a mob, he could not have got
MS. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 437
one that "would be move likely to do damage to his farm than this
steeple-chase one. Nor was the assemblage confined to the people
of the country, for the Granddiddle Junction, by its connexion with
the great network of railways, enabled all patrons of this truly
national sport to sweep down upon the spot like flocks of wolves ;
and train after train disgorged a generous mixture of sharps and
flats, commingling with coatless, baggy-breeched vagabonds, the
emissaries most likely of the Peeping Toms and Infallible Joes,
if not the worthies themselves.
" Dear, but it's a noble sight ! " exclaimed Viney to Watchorn
as they sat on their horses, below a rickety green-baize covered
scaffold, labelled, " Grand Stand ; admission, Two-and-sixpence,"
raised against Sconrgefield's stack-yard wall, eyeing the population
pouring in from all parts. "Dear, but it's a noble sight ! " said
lie, shading the sun from his eyes,, and endeavouring to identify
the different vehicles in the distance. " Yonder's the 'bus comin'
again," said he, looking towards the station, " loaded like a
market-gardener's turnip-waggon. That'll pay" added he, with
a knowing leer at the landlord of the Hen Angel, Newington
Butts. " And who have we here, with the four horses and sky-
blue flunkies ? Jawleyford, as I live ! " added he, answering
himself ; adding, " The beggar had better pay me what he owes."
How great Mr. Viney was ! Some people, who have never had
anything to do with horses, think it incumbent upon them, when
they have, to sport top-boots, and accordingly, for the first time
in his life, Viney appears in a pair of remarkably hard, tight,
country-made boots, above which are a pair of baggy, white cords,
with the dirty finger-marks of the tailor still upon them. He
sports a single-breasted green cutaway coat, with basket-buttons,
a black satin roll-collared waistcoat, and a new white silk hat, that
shines in the bright sun like a fish-kettle. His blue-striped kerchief
is secured by a butterfly brooch. Who ever saw an innkeeper that
could resist a brooch ?
He is riding a miserable rat of a badly-clipped, mouse-coloured
pony, that looks like a velocipede under him.
His companion Mr. Watchorn, is very great, and hardly condes-
cends to know the country people who claim his acquaintance as a
huntsman. He is a Hotel Keeper — master of the Hen Angel,
Kewington Butts. Eucch Wriggle stands beside them, dressed
in the imposing style of a cockney sportsman. He has been puffing
** Sir Danapalus (the Bart.)" in public, and taking all the odds he
can get against him in private. Watchorn knows that it is easier
to make a horse lose than win. The restless-looking, lynx-eyed
caitiff, in the dirty green shawl, with his hands stuffed into the front
pockets of the brown tarriar coat, is their jockey, the renowned
Captain Han gallows ; he answers to the name of Sam Slick in
428 ME. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
Mr. Spavin, the horse-dealer's yard in Oxford Street, when
not in the country on similar excursions, to the present. And
now in the throng- on the principal line are two conspicuous
horses — a piebald and a white — carrying Mr. Sponge and
Lucy Glitters. Lucy appears as she did on the frosty-day
hunt, glowing with health and beauty, and rather straining the
seams of Lady Scattercash's habit with the additional embonpoint
she has acquired by early hours in the country. She has made
Mr. Sponge a white silk jacket to ride in, which he has on under
his grey taniar coat, and a cap of the same colour is in his hard
hat. He has discarded the gosling-green cords for cream-
coloured leathers, and, to please Lucy, has actually substituted a
pair of rose-tinted tops for the "'hogany bouts." Altogether he is
a great swell, and very like the bridegroom.
But hark — what a crash ! The leaders of Sir Harry Scatter-
cash's drag start at a blind fiddler's dog stationed at the gate lead-
ing into the fields, a wheel catches the post, and in an instant the
sham captains are scattered about the road : — Bouncey on his head,
Seedeybuck across the wheelers, Quod on his back, and Sir Harry
astride the gate. Meanwhile, the old fiddler, regardless of the shouts
of the men and the shrieks of the ladies, scrapes away with the
appropriate tune of " The Devil among the Tailors ! " A rush to
the horses' heads arrests further mischief, the dislodged captains
are at length righted, the nerves of the ladies composed, and Sir
Harry once more essays to drive them up the hill to the stand.
That feat being accomplished, then came the unloading, and
consternation, and huddling of the tight-laced occupants at the
idea of these female ivomen coming amongst them, and the usual
peeping and spying, and eyeing of the "creatures." "What
impudence ! " " Well, I think ! " " Ton my word ! " " What
next ! " — exclamations that were pretty well lost upon the fair
objects of them amid the noise and flutter and confusion of the
scene. But hark again ! What's up now ?
" Hooray ! " " hooray ! " " h-o-o-o-ray ! " " Three cheers for the
Squire ! H-o-o-o-ray ! " Old Puff as we live ! The " amazin' instance
of a pop'lar man" greeted by the Swillingford snobs. The old frost-
bitten dandy is flattered by the cheers, and bows condescendingly ere-
he alights from the well-appointed mail phaeton. See how graciously
the ladies receive him, as, having ascended the stairs, he appears
among them. " A man is never to old to marry " is their maxim.
The cry is still, " They come ! they come ! " See at a hand-
gallop, with his bay pony in a white lather, rides Pacey, grinning
from ear to car, with his red-backed betting-book peeping out of
the breast pocket of his brown cutaway. He is staring and
gaping to see who is looking at him.
Pacey has made such a book as none but a wooden-headed boy
MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 439
like himself could make. He has been surfeited with tips. Peep-
ing Tom advised him to back Daddy Eongleg3 ; and, nullus error,
Sneaking Joe has counselled him that the " Baronet " will be
" California without cholera, and gold without danger ; " while
Jemmy something, the jockey, who advertises that his " tongue is
not for falsehood framed," though Ave should think it was framed
for nothing else, has urged him to back Parvo to half the amount of
the national debt.
Altogether, Paccy has made such a mess that he cannot possibly
win, and may lose almost any sum from a thousand pounds, down
to a hundred and eighty. Mr. Sponge has got well on with him,
through the medium of Jack Spraggon.
Paccy is now going to what he calls " compare " — see that he
has got his bets booked right ; and, throwing his right leg over
his cob's neck, he blobs on to the ground ; and leaving the pony
to take care of itself, disappears in the crowd.
What a hubbub ! what roarings, and shoutings, and recognis-
ings !? "Bless. my heart ! who'd have thought of seeing you ? "
and, " By jingo ! what's sent you here ? "
"My dear Waffles," cries Jawleyford, rushing up to our
Laverick Wells friend (who is looking very debauched), "I'm over-
joyed to see you. Do come up-stairs and see Mrs. Jawleyford
and the dear girls. It was only last night we were talking about
you." And so Jawleyford hurries Mr. Waffles off, just as
Waffles is in extremis about his horse.
Looking around the scene there seems to be everybody that we
have had the pleasure of introducing to the reader in the course
of Mr. Sponge's Tour. Mr. and Mrs. Springwheat in their dog-
cart, Mrs. Springcy's figure, looking as though "wheat had got
above forty, my lord ; " old Jog and his handsome wife in the
ugly old phaeton, well garnished with children, and a couple of
sticks in the rough peeping out of the apron, Gustavus James
held up in his mother's arms, with the curly blue feather nodding
over his nose. There is also Farmer Peastraw, and faces that a
patient inspection enables us to appropriate to Dribble, and Hook,
and Capon, and Calcot, and Lumpleg, and Crane of Crane Hall,
and Charley Slapp of red-coat times — people look so different in
plain clothes to what they do in hunting ones. Here, too, is
George Cheek, running down with perspiration, having run over
from Dr. Latherington's, for which he will most likely "catch it "
when he gets back ; and oh, wonder of wonders, here's Robert
Foozle himself!
" Well, Robert, you've come to the steeple-chase ? "
" Yes, I've come to the steeple-chase."
" Are you fond of steeple-chases ? "
" Yes, I'm fond of steeple-chases."
440 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
" I dare say, you never were at one before," observes his mother.
" No, I never was at one before," replies Robert.
And though last not least, here's Faccy Romford, with his arm
in a sling, on Mr. Hobler, come to look after that sivin-p'und-tcn,
which we wish he may get.
Hark ! there's a row below the stand, and Viney is seen in a
state of excitement inquiring for Mr. Washball. Pacey has
objected to a gentleman rider, and Guano and Puffington have
differed on the point. A nice, slim, well-put-on lad (Buckram's
roughrider) has come to the scales and claimed to be allowed 3 lbs.
as the Honourable Captain Boville. Finding the point questioned,
he abandons the " handle," and sinks into plain Captain Boville.
Pacey now objects to him altogether.
" S-c-e-u-s-e me, sir ; s-c-e-u-s-c me, sir," simpers our friend
Dick Bragg, sidling up to the objector with a sort of tendency of
his turn-back-wristed hand to his hat. " S-c-e-u-s-e me, sir ;
s-c-e-u-s-e me," repeats he, "but I think you was wrong, sir, in
objecting to Captain Boville, sir, as a gen'l'man rider, sir."
" Why? " demands Pacey, in the full flush of victory.
"Oh, sir — because, sir — in fact, sir — he is a gen'l'man, sir."
" Is a gentleman ! How do you know ? " demands Pacey, in
the same tone as before.
" Oh, sir, he's a gen'l'man — an undoubted gen'l'man. Every-
thing about him shows that. Does nothing — breeches by
Anderson — boots by Bartlcy ; besides which, he drinks wine every
day, and has a whole box of cigars in his bedroom. But don't
take my word for it, pray," continued Bragg, seeing Pacey
was wavering ; don't take my word for it, pray. There's a
genTman, a countryman of his somewhere about," added he,
looking anxiously into the surrounding crowd — " there's a
gen'l'man, a countryman of his somewhere about, if we could but
find him," Bragg standing on his tiptoes, and exclaiming, " Mr.
Buckram ! Mr. Buckram ! Has anybody seen anything of Mr.
Buckram ! "
" Mere ! " replied a meek voice from beliiud ; upon which
there was an elbowing through the crowd, and presently a most
respectable, rosy-gilled, grey-haired hawbuck-looking man, attired
in a new brown cut-away, with bright buttons and a velvet collar,
with a buff waistcoat, came twirling an ash-stick in one hand, and
fumbling the silver in his drab trousers' pocket with the other, in
front of the bystanders.
" Oh ! 'ere he is ! " exclaimed Bragg, appealiug to the stranger
with a hasty " You kuow Captain Boville, don't you ? "
"Why, now, as to the matter of that," replied the gentleman,
gathering all the loose silver up into his hand, and speaking very
slowly, just as a country gentleman, who has all the livelong day
Mil. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 441
to do nothing in, may be supposed to speak — "Why, now, as ta
the matter of that," said he, eyeing Pacey intently, and beginning
to drop the silver slowly as he spoke, " I can't say that I've any
very 'ticklar 'quaintance with the captin. I knows him, in course,
just as one knows a neighbour's son. The captin's a good deal
younger nor me," continued he, raising his new eight-and-sixpenny
Parisian, as if to show his sandy grey hair. " I'm a'most sixty ;
and he, I dare say, is little more nor twenty," dropping a half-
crown as he said it. " But the captin's a nice young gent — a nice
young gent, without any blandishment, I should say ; and that's
more nor one can say of all young gents now-a-days," said
Buckram, looking at Pacey as he spoke, and dropping two con-
secutive half-crowns.
" Why, but you live near him, don't you ? " interrupted Bragg.
"Near him," repeated Buckram, feeling his well-shaven chin
thoughtfully. "Why, yes — that's to say, near his dad. The fact
is," continued he, " I've a little independence of my own,"
dropping a heavy five-shilling piece as he said it, " and his father
— old Bo, as I call him — adjoins me ; and if either of us 'appen
to have a lallue, or a 'aunch of wenzun, and a few friends, we
inwitc each other, and wicey wersey, you know," letting off a lot of
shillings and sixpences. And just at the moment the blind fiddler
struck up "The Devil among the Tailors," when the shouts and
laughter of the mob closed the scene.
And now gentlemen, who heretofore have shown no more of the
jockey than Cinderella's feet in the early part of the pantomime
disclose of her ball attire, suddenly cast off the pea-jackets and
bearskin wraps, and shawls and over-coats of winter, and shine
forth in all the silken flutter of summer heat.
We know of no more humiliating sight than misshapen gentle-
men playing at jockeys. Playing at soldiers is bad enough, but
playing at jockeys is infinitely worse — above all, playing at steeple-
chase jockeys, combining, as they generally do, all the worst
features of the hunting-field and racecourse — unsympathising
boots and breeches, dirty jackets that never fit, and caps that
won't keep on. What a farce to see the great bulky fellows go to
scale with their saddles strapped to their backs, as if to illustrate
the impossibility of putting a round of beef upon a pudding-plate !
But the weighed in ones are mounting. See, there's Jack
Spraggon getting a hoist on to Daddy Longlegs ! Did ever
mortal see such a man for a jockey ? He has cut off the laps of a
stunner tartan jacket, and looks like a great backgammon-board.
He has got his head into an old gold-banded military foraging-cap,
which comes down almost on to the rims of his great tortoiseshell
spectacles. Lord Scamperdale stands with his hand on the horse's
mane, talking earnestly to Jack, doubtless giving him his final
442 Mil. SPONGE'S SFOETING TOUR.
instructions. Other jockeys emerge from various parts of the
farm-buildings ; some out of stables ; some out of cow-houses ;
others from beneath cart-sheds. The scene becomes enlivened
with the varied colours of the riders — red, yellow, green, blue,
violet, and stripes without end. Then comes the usual difficulty c-f
identifying the parties, many of whose mothers wouldn't know them.
" That's Captain Tongs," observes Miss Simperley, " in the
blue. I remember dancing with him at Bath, and he did nothing
but talk about steeple-chasing."
" And who's that in yellow ? " asks Miss Hardy.
" That's Captain Gander," replies the gentleman on her left.
" Well, I think he'll win,'' replies the lady.
" I'll bet you a pair of gloves he doesn't," snaps Miss Moore,
who fancies Captain Pusher, in the pink.
" "What a squat little jockey ! " exclaims Miss Hamilton, as a
little dumpling of a man in Lincoln green is led past the stand on
a fine bay horse, some one recognising the rider as our old friend
Caingey Thornton.
" And look who comes here ? " whispers Miss Jawleyford to her
sister, as Mr. Sponge, having accomplished a mount without
derangement of temper, rides Hercules quietly past the stand, his
whip-hand resting on his thigh, and his head turned to his fair
companion on the white.
" Oh, the wretch ! " sneers Miss Amelia ; and the fair sisters
look at Lucy and then at him with the utmost disgust.
Mr. Sponge may now be doubled up by half a dozen falls ere
cither of them would suggest the propriety of having him bled.
Lucy's cheeks are rather blanched with the "pale cast of
thought," for she is not sufficiently initiated in the mysteries of
steeple-chasing to know that it is often quite as good for a man
to lose as to win, which it had just been quietly arranged between
Sponge and Buckram should be the case on this occasion, Buckram
having got uncommonly "well on " to the losing tune. Perhaps,
however, Lucy was thinking of the peril, not the profit of the thing.
The young ladies on the stand eye her with mingled feelings-
of pity and disdain, while the elderly ones shake their heads, call
her a bold hussy — declare she's not so pretty — adding that they
" wouldn't have come if they'd known," &c. &c.
But it is half past two (an hour and a half after time), and
there is at last a disposition evinced by some of the parties to go to-
the post. Broad-backed partycoloured jockeys are seen converging
that way, and the betting-men close in, getting more and more
clamorous for odds. What a hubbub ! How they bellow ! How
they roar ! A universal deafness seems to have come over the
whole of them. " Seven to one 'gain the Bart. ! " screams one —
" I'll take cidit ! " roars another. " Five to one ao-en Herc'lcs ! ,r
MB. SPONGE'S SFOLTIXG TOUR. 443
cries a third — " Done ! " roars a fourth. " Twice over ! " rejoins
the other — " Done ! " replies the taker. " Ar'll take five to one
agin the Daddy ! " — " I'll lay six ! " "What'll any one lay 'gin
1'arvo ? " And so they raise such an uproar that the squeak,
squeak, squeak of the
" Devil among the tailors,"
is hardly heard.
Then, in a partial lull, the voice of Lord Scamperdalc rises, ex-
claiming, " Oh, you hideous Hobgoblin, bull-and-mouth of a boy !
you think, because I'm a lord, and can't swear, or use coarse
language " And again the hubbub, led on by the
" Devil among the tailors,"
drowns the exclamations of the speaker. It's that Pacey again ;
he's accusing the virtuous Mr. Spraggon of handing his extra
weight to Lord Scamperdalc ; and Jack, in the full consciousness
of injured guilt, intimates that the blood of the Spraggons won't
stand that — that there's "only one way of settling it, and he'll be
ready for Pacey half an hour after the race."
At length the horses are all out — one, two, three, four, five, six,
seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen —
fifteen of them, moving about in all directions ; some taking an
up-gallop, others a down : some a spicy trot, others walking to
and fro ; while one has still his muzzle on, lest he should unship
his rider and eat him ; and another's groom follows, imploring the
mob to keep off his heels if they don't want their heads in their
hands. The noisy bell at length summons the scattered forces to
the post, and the variegated riders form into as good a line as
circumstances will allow. Just as Mr. Sponge turns his horse's-
head Lucy hands him her little silver sherry-flask, which our friend
drains to the dregs. As he returns it, with a warm pressure of her
soft hand, a pent-up flood of tears burst their bounds, and suffuse
her lustrous eyes. She turns away to hide her emotion ; at the
same instant a wild shout rends the air — " W-h-i-r-r ! They're off! "
Thirteen get away, one turns tail, and our friend in the Lincoln
green is left performing a pas seul, asking the rearing horse, with
an oath, if he thinks " he stole him ?" while the mob shout and
roar ; and one wicked wag, in coaching parlance, advises him to
pay the difference, and get inside.
But what a display of horsemanship is exhibited by the flyers t
Tongs comes off at the first fence, the horse making straight for a
pond, while the rest rattle on in a mass. The second fence is
small, but there's a ditch on the far side, and Pusher and Gander
severally measure their lengths on the rushy pasture beyond.
Still there are ten left, and nobody ever reckoned upon these
•retting to the far end.
444 MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
" Master wins, for a 'undr'd ! " exclaims Leather, as, getting
into the third field, Mr. Sponge takes a decided lead ; and Lucy,
encouraged by the sound, looks up, and sees her " white jacket "
throwing the diy fallow in the faces of the field.
"Oh, how I hope he ivill 1 " exclaims she, clasping her hands,
with upturned eyes ; but when she ventures on another look, she
sees old Spraggon drawing upon him, Hangallows's flaming red
jacket not far off, and several others nearer than she liked. Still
the tail was beginning to form. Another fence, and that a big one,
draws it out. A striped jacket is down, and the horse, after a vain
effort to rise, sinks lifeless on the ground. On they go all the same !
Loud yells of exciting betting burst from the spectators, and
Buckram gets well on for the cross.
There are now five in front — Sponge, Spraggon, Hangallows,
Boville, and another ; and already the pace begins to tell. It
wasn't possible to run it at the rate they started. Spraggon
makes a desperate effort to get the lead ; and Sponge, seeing
Boville handy, pulls his horse, and lets the light-weight make play
over a rough, heavy fallow with the chestnut. Jack spurs and
flogs, and grins and foams at the mouth. Thus they get half
round the oval course. They are now directly in front of the hill,
and the spectators gaze with intense anxiety ; — now vociferating
the name of this horse, now of that ; now shouting " Red jacket ! "
now " White ! " while the blind fiddler perseveres with the old
melody of — " The Devil among the Tailors."
" Now they come to the brook ! " exclaims Leather, who has
been over the ground ; and as he speaks, Lucy distinctly sees Mr.
Sponge's gather and effort to clear it ; and— oh, horror ! — the
horse falls — he's down — no, he's up ! — and her lover's in his seat
again ; and she flatters herself it was her sherry that saved him.
Splasli ! — a horse and rider duck under ; three get over ; two go
in ; now another clears it, and the rest turn tail.
What splashing and screaming, and whipping and spurring,
and how hopeless the chance of any of them to recover their lost
ground. The race is now clearly between five. Now for the wall !
It's five feet high, built of heavy blocks, and strong in the staked-
out part. As he nears it, Jack sits well back, getting Daddy
Longlegs well by the head, and giving him a refresher with the
whip. It is Jack's last move ! His horse comes, neck and crop,
over, rolling Jack up like a ball of worsted on the far side. At
the same moment, Multum-in-Parvo goes at it full tilt ; and not
rising an inch, sends Captain Boville flying one way, his saddle
another, himself a third, and the stones all ways. Mr. Sponge
then slips through, closely followed by Haugallows and a jockey
in yellow, with a tail of three after them. They then put on all
the steam they can raise over the twenty-acre pasture that follows.
ME. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUP. 445-
The white ! — the red ! — the yaller ! The red ! — the white ! — the
yaller ! and anybody's race ! A sheet would cover them ! — crack J
whack ! crack ! how they flog ! Hercules springs at the sound.
Many of the excited spectators begin hallooing, and straddling,
and working their arms as if their gestures and vociferations
would assist the race. Lord Scamperdale stands transfixed. He
is staring through his silver spectacles at the awkwardly lying ball
that represents poor Spraggon.
" By Heavens ! " exclaims he, in an undertone to himself, " /
believe he's killed!'''' And thereupon he swung down the stand-
stairs, rushed to his horse, and clapping spurs to his sides, struck
across the country to the spot.
Long before he gob there the increased uproar of the spectators-
announced the final struggle ; and looking over his shoulder, he
saw white jacket hugging his horse home, closely followed by red,,
and shooting past the winning-post.
" Dash that Mr. Sponge ! " growled his lordship, as the cheers
of the winners closed the scene.
" The brute's won, in spite of him ! " gasped Buckram, turning
deadly pale at the sight.
CHAPTER LX.
HOW OTHER THINGS CA3IE OFF.
'Twere hard to say whether Lucy's joy at Sponge's safety, or
Lord Scamperdale's grief at poor Spraggon's death, was most
overpowering. Each found relief in a copious Hood of tears.
Lucy sobbed and laughed, and sobbed and laughed again ; and
Beemed as if her little heart would burst its bounds. The mob,
ever open to sentiment — especially the sentiment of beauty —
cheered and shouted as she rode with her lover from the winning
to the weighing-post.
"A', she's a bonny un!" exclaimed a countryman, looking
intently up in her face.
" She is that ! " cried another, doing the same.
"Three cheers for the lady ! " shouted a tall Shaggyford rough,
taking off his woolly cap, and waving it.
"i/00-ray ! hoo-ray ! hoo-iaj I " shouted a group of flannel-clad
navvies.
" Three for white jacket ! " then roared a blue-coated butcher,
who had won as many half-crowns on the race. — Three cheers
were given for the unwilling winner.
446 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
" Ob, my poor clear Jack ! " exclaimed his lordship, throwing
himself off his horse, and wringing his hands in despair, as a select
party of thimble-riggers, who had gone to Jack's assistance, raised
him up, and turned his ghastly face, with his eyes squinting inside
out, and the foam still on his mouth, full upon him. " Oh, my
poor dear Jack ! " repeated his lordship, sinking on his knees beside
him, and grasping his stiffening hand as he spoke. His lordship
sunk overpowered upon the body.
The thimble-riggers then availed themselves of the opportunity
to ease his lordship and Jack of their Avatches and the few shillings
they had about them, and departed.
"When a lord is in distress, consolation is never long in coming ;
and Lord Scamperdale had hardly got over the first paroxysms of
grief, and gathered up Jack's cap, and the fragments of his
spectacles, ere Jawleyford, who had noticed his abrupt departure
from the stand, and scurry across the country, arrived at the spot.
His lordship was still in the full agony of woe ; still grasping and
bedewing Jack's cold hand with his tears.
" Oh, my dear Jack ! Oh, my dear Jawleyford ! Oh, my dear
Jack ! " sobbed he, as he mopped the fast-chasing tears from his
grizzly checks with a red cotton kerchief. " Oh, my dear Jack !
Oh, my dear Jawleyford ! Oh ! my dear Jack ! " repeated he, as a
fresh flood spread o'er the rugged surface. " Oh, what a tr-rcasurc,
what a tr — tr — trump he was. Shall never get such another.
Nobody could s — s — lang a fi — fi — field as he could ; no hu — hu
— humbug 'bout him — never was su — su — such a fine natural bl
— bl — blackguard ; " and then his feelings wholly choked his
utterance as he recollected how easily Jack was satisfied ; how he
could dine off tripe and cow-heel, mop up fat porridge for break-
fast, and never grumbled at being put on a bad horse.
The news of a man being killed soon reached the hill, and drew
the attention of the mob from our hero and heroine, causing such
a spread of population over the farm as must have been highly
gratifying to Scourgefield, who stood watching the crashing of the
fences and the demolition of the gates, thinking how he was paying
his landlord off.
Seeing the rude, unmannerly character of the mob, Jawleyford
got his lordship by the arm, and led him away towards the hill, his
lordship rccliug, rather than walking, and indulging in all sorts
of wild, incoherent cries and lamentations.
" Sing out, Jack ! sing out ! " he would exclaim, as if in the
agony of having his hounds ridden over ; then, checking himself,
he would shake his head and say, " Ah, poor Jack, poor Jack !
shall never look upon his like again — shall never get such a man
to read the riot act, and keep all square." And then a fresh gush
of tears suffused his grizzly face.
Mil. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR. 447
The minor casualties of those few butchering spasmodic
moments may be briefly dismissed, though they were more
numerous than most sportsmen see out hunting in a lifetime.
One horse broke his back, another was drowned, Multum-in-
Parvo was cut all to pieces, his rider had two ribs and a thumb
broken, while Farmer Slyfield's stack-yard was fired by some of the
itinerant tribe, and all its uninsured contents destroyed — so that his
landlord was not the only person who suffered by the grand occasion.
Nor was this all, for Mr. Numboy, the coroner, hearing of
Jack's death, held an inquest on the body ; and, having cm-
panneled a matter-of-fact jury — men who did not see the advan-
tage of steeple-chasing, either in a political, commercial, agricul-
tural, or national point of view, and who, having surveyed the
line, and found nearly every fence dangerous, and the wall and
brook doubly so, returned a verdict of manslaughter against Mr.
Viney for setting it out, who was forthwith committed to the
county gaol of Limbo Castle for trial at the ensuing assizes, from
whence let us join the benevolent clerk of arraigns in wishing him
a good deliverance.
Many of the hardy " tips " sounded the loud trump of victory,
proclaiming that their innumerable friends had feathered their
nests through their agency ; but Peeping Tom, and Infallible Joe,
and Enoch Wriggle, the " offending soul," &c, found it con-
venient to bolt from their respective establishments, carrying with
them their large fire-screens, camp-stools, and boards for posting up
their lists, and setting up in new names in other quarters ; while
the Hen Angel was shortly afterwards closed, and the presentation-
tureen made into " white soup."
Our noble master's nerves were so dreadfully shattered by the
lamentable catastrophe to poor Jack, that he stepped, or rather
was pushed, into Jawleyford's carriage almost insensibly, and
driven from the course to Jawleyford Court.
There he remained sufficiently long for Mrs. Jawleyford to
persuade him that he would be far better married, and that either
of her amiable daughters would make him a most excellent wife.
His lordship, after very mature consideration, and many most
scrutinising stares at both of them through his formidable
spectacles, wondering which would be the least likely to ruin
him — at length decided upon taking Miss Emily, the youngest,
though for a long time the victory was doubtful, and Amelia
practised her " Scamperdale " singing with unabated ardour and
confidence up to the last. We believe, if the truth were known,
it was a slight touch of rouge, that Amelia thought would clench
the matter, that decided his lordship against her. Emily, we are
happy to say, makes him an excellent wife, and has not got her
head turned by becoming a countess. She has improved his
448 MR. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
lordship amazingly, got him smart new clothes, and persuaded
him to grow bushy whiskers right down under his chin, and is
now feeling her way to a pair of mustaches.
AVoodmansterne is quite another place. She has marshalled a
proper establishment, and got him coaxed into the long put-a-way
company rooms. Though he still indulges in his former cow-heel
and other delicacies, they do not appear upon table ; while he
sports his silver-mounted specs on all occasions. The fruit and
venison are freely distributed, and we have come in for a haunch
in return for our attentions.
Best of all, Lady Scamperdalc has got his lordship to erect a
handsome marble monument to poor Jack, instead of the cheap
country stone he intended. The inscription states that it was
erected by Samuel, Eighth Earl of Scamperdale, and Viscount
Hardup, in the Peerage of Ireland, to the Memory of John
Spraggon, Esquire, the best of Sportsmen, and the firmest of
Friends. "Who or what Jack was, nobody ever knew, and as he
only left a hat and eighteen pence behind him, no next of kin has
as yet cast up.
Jawleyford has not stood the honour of the Scamperdale
alliance quite so well as his daughter ; and when our " amazin'
instance of a pop'lar man," instigated perhaps by the desire to
have old Scamp for a brother-in-law, offered to Amelia, Jaw got
throaty and consequential, hemmed and hawed, and pretended
to be stiff about it. Puff, however, produced such weighty
testimonials, as soon exercised their wonted influence. In due
time Puff very magnanimously proposed uniting his pack with
Lord Scamperdale's, dividing the expense of one establishment
between them, to which his lordship readily assented, advising
Puff to get rid of Bragg by giving him the hounds, which he did ;
and that great sporting luminary may be seen " s-c-e-u-s-e "-iug
himself, and offering his service to masters of hounds any Monday
at Tattersall's — though he still prefers a " quality place."
Benjamin Buckram, the gentleman with the small indepen-
dence of his own, we are sorry to say has gone to the " bad."
Aggravated by the loss he sustained by his horse winning the
steeple- chase, he made an ill-advised onslaught on the cash-box of
the London and Westminster Bank ; and at three score years aud
ten, this distinguished " turfite," who had participated with im-
punity in nearly all the great robberies of the last forty years, was
doomed to transportation. And yet we have seen this cracksman
captain — for he, too, was a captain at times — jostling and bellow-
ing for odds among some of the highest and noblest of the
land!
Leather has descended to the cab-stand, of which he promises
to be a distinguished ornament. He haunts the Piccadilly stands.
MB. SPONGE'S SPOBTING TOUB. 449
and has what he calls " 'stablish'd a raw " on Mr. Sponge to the
extent of three-and-sixpence a week, under threats of exposing the
robbery Sponge committed on our friend Mr. Waffles. That
volatile genius, we are happy to add, is quite well, and open to the
attentions of any young lady who thinks she can tame a wild
young man. His financial affairs are not irretrievable.
And now for the hero and heroine of our tale. The Sponges —
for our friend married Lucy shortly after the steeple-chase —
stayed at Nonsuch House until the bailiffs walked in. Sir Harry
then bolted to Boulogne, where he shortly afterwards died, and
Bugles very properly married my lady. They are now living at
AVandsworth ; Mr. Bugles and Lady Scattercash, very " much
thought of " — as Bugles says.
Although Mr. Sponge did not gain as much by winning the
steeple-chase as he would have done had Hercules allowed him to
lose it, he still did pretty well ; and being at length starved out of
Nonsuch House, he arrived at his old quarters, the Bantam, in
Bond Street, where he turned his attention very seriously to pro-
viding for Lucy and the little Sponge, who had now issued its
prospectus. He thought over all the ways and means of making
money without capital, rejecting Australia and California as unfit
for sportsmen and men fond of their "Moggs." Professional
steeple-chasing Lucy decried, declaring she would rather return to
her flag-exercises at Astley's, as soon as she was able, than have
her dear Sponge risking his neck that way. Our friend at length
began to fear fortune-making was not so easy as he thought —
indeed, he was soon sure of it.
One day as he was staring vacantly out of the Bantam coffee-
room window, between the gilt labels, " Hot Soups," and " Din-
ners," he was suddenly seized with a fit of virtuous indignation at
the disreputable frauds practised by unprincipled adventurers on
the unwary public, in the way of betting-offices, and resolved that
he would be the St. George to slay this great dragon of abuse.
Accordingly, after due consultation with Lucy, he invested his all
in fitting up and decorating the splendid establishment in Jermyn
Street, St. James's, now known as the Sponge Cigae and Betting
Rooms, whose richness neither pen nor pencil can do justice to.
We must, therefore, entreat our readers to visit this emporium
of honesty, where, in addition to finding lists posted on all the
great events of the day, they can have the use of a " Mogg "
while they indulge in one of Lucy's unrivalled cigars ; and noble-
men, gentlemen, and officers in the household troops, may be
accommodated with loans on their personal security to any
amount. We see by Mr. Sponge's last advertisements that he has
£116,300 to lend at three-and-a-half per cent. !
" What a farce," we faucy we hear some enterprising youngster
450
MB. SPONGE'S SPORTING TOUR.
exclaim, — " what a farce, to suppose that such a needy scamp ai
Mr. Sponge, who has been cheating everybody, has any money to
lend, or to pay bets with if he loses ! " Right, young gentleman,
right ; but not a bit greater farce than to suppose that any of the
plausible money-lenders, or infallible " tips " with whom you, per-
haps, have had connection have any either, in case it's called for.
Nay, bad as he is, we'll back old Soapey to be better than any of
them, — with which encomium we most heartily bid him Adieu.
CV^sflV'
' ME. AXD MRS. SPONOE ! '
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